


All is Fair

by Achromos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angr is male!Angrboða, Game of Thrones-esque, Loki-centric, M/M, Manipulative Loki, Marriage of Convenience, Politics, Post Mpreg, Royalty, Scheming, Tony is a Stark but not of Winterfell, Wooing, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achromos/pseuds/Achromos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is scheming to take over power over the Nine Realms once Odin is dead, with his brainless brother as his puppet-king. But in order to do that he needs influential friends. A match with Lord Anthony Stark, Midgard's councilman of war, seems to be reasonable. But he did not expect to actually like the man. Will the unanticipated factor of sentiment stand in his way to fulfill his lifelong dreams of power? But then, all is fair in love and war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All is Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Heya!  
> This fic is to blame for the delay (I'm so sorry!) in the updates for all my other multi-chapter fics. It just kept getting longer and longer! Anyway, I saw a severe lack of ASOIAF-Frostiron fics, and re-watching the GoT TV series with my mom kinda sparked this. There won't, however, be any of the original GoT characters, houses or stories in this - it's more the atmosphere, plot-style and world-setting that I used. So no Tony Stark of Winterfell, I'm afraid :) If you want to know more about the world, ask me, either in the comments or on tumblr: you can find me under llaevateinn.tumblr.com  
> Also I'd like to add that Loki's POV is quite problematic. The guy has some issues, I'm telling you. So what he sees or thinks doesn't necessarily have to be the truth.
> 
> Enjoy!

The Nine Realms, parted by the endlessly branching arms of the river Yggdrasil, have ever been ruled by the Kings of its highest and most noble of houses, the House Búri of Asgard. Currently, Odin Allfather was crowned King of Kings and supreme Protector of the Nine Realms. However, he was old, and while he was still strong, House Búri had not only made friends and allies, but also enemies, and those were many and powerful as well. Among them were King Farbauti Laufey of Jötunheim and his Jotnar, who lived in the high north. But others were just waiting for their opportunity to strike as well. Those were more covert, acting behind veils of courtly conspiracies and alliances forged over tea and cake.

/^-^-^-^\

To reinforce old alliances, the King of Kings sent his two sons north. Not as far as Jötunheim, but to the neighboring Realm Midgard instead. Crown Prince Thor, who was ever the valiant warrior and yearned for true battle to prove himself, had not been pleased to be tasked with “womanly diplomacy”, as he called it. He had been sulking on his horse for the whole trip north.

Loki on the other hand, enjoyed the rare opportunity to escape King’s Island. Though male, as a bearer he hadn’t been allowed to pursue the art of war. Instead he had been left to study medicine, literature, music and other arts that were deemed more feminine and safe for someone who – for now – carried the burden of providing House Búri with heirs. His rebellious spirit – as well as, so scholars claimed, his bearer nature – then had led to several amorous escapades during his youth, of which his young daughter Hela was indisputable proof. The girl, now seven years old, sat with her birthmother in the elegant, closed carriage, where they were both protected from the weather, but also depraved of any entertainment.

“Will it be long now, mamma?” Hela asked from behind Loki, who sat on his haunches on the floor of the carriage. Like this, his daughter could comfortably reach his head, where she was currently braiding flowers into his long, dark hair.

“Captain Fandral said that we should reach the Triskelion Towers today, and it is past midday. I suspect it will be a few more hours, darling.”

Hela hummed and smoothed a small hand down her mother’s braids, when she was finished.

“There, I made you pretty.”

Loki laughed and kissed his daughter’s cheek – the left one, the one that was cold, grey and stiff from the illness that had almost killed her when she had been but an infant. The illness had taken almost the whole left side of her body and prematurely claimed it in the name of Mistress Death, but Hela had been strong and lived, with her spirit unbroken.

To pass the time Loki had been teaching some basic herbalism to Hela, based on whichever flowers, herbs, and grasses or leaves a helpful knight plucked from them. A few of those had now found their way into Loki’s hair; and when a few less friendly knights made remarks about “bearer nature” or the “soft female heart” as soon as Loki and Hela exited the carriage for a stop, he simply held his head higher and distracted Hela by pointing out a ladybug crawling on her skirt.

They sat in the grass, not minding the wrinkles and stains their dresses would surely get, but enjoying the warm summer sun and the buzzing of life around them.

“Mamma, is this already Midgard?”

“Yes, darling. We crossed Yggdrasil for the last time this morning, remember?”

Hela nodded.

“Mamma, does Midgard truly have no king? And why did they name their capital the Triskelion Tower? And why are we here to do diplomacy, I thought grandfather is popular. Will I need to be like a proper lady?”

Loki smiled indulgently at his daughter’s questioning.

“Slowly, ladybug. One after the other.” He thought for a moment. “Yes, Midgard has no king. It is instead ruled by a parliament of lords, ladies, knights and other important people. At the head is the small council, which currently consists of General Fury, Ser Steven, Ser Clint, Lady Natasha, Lord Anthony, and as Maester Banner, a man of knowledge, who studied at the Citadel.” He waited for a moment, waiting for Hela to nod. “And their capital is actually not a real city, but three towers, that are surrounded by a city. One tower is for defense, one for the full council and other governmental capacities, and one for storage. And about why your grandfather sent us: Since Midgard has no king, it is important for your grandfather to know who rules Midgard. The members of the small council may change from year to year, but it is important to know that they are as loyal, noble and serious as their predecessors.” Hela nodded again, anxiously biting her lip. Loki fixed her with a stern gaze. “Which is why it will be important that you behave like a proper lady. So yes; you will need to wear your tiara; you will need to eat with us at the table for adults, and act accordingly; you will need to follow courtly rules and remember your place, not only as a girl, or my daughter, but a bastard, too.”

Hela’s face fell at the mention of her illegitimate status, which did not give her the rights of a proper princess, an heir of the House Búri, but still required her full commitment as a child of noble blood, though not of noble birth.

The rest of their journey to the Triskelion Tower Hela seemed subdued despite Loki’s attempts to cheer her up again. Sometimes he hated his father for not officially accepting Hela into the House Búri. It complicated so many things, and only caused for sadness.

Still, when they reached the city surrounding the Triskelion Tower and the unmistakable sounds and odors of a large city reached their ears and noses, Hela perked up a bit and allowed Loki and a handmaiden to fix her hair and dress. She changed from her plain brown travel dress into a silver and white gown, with fitting pearls and moonstones woven into her black hair. On top she wore a warm, wolf-fur lined cloak of grey wool. She cooed at the soft furs and even refrained from fussing when the handmaiden fixed the silver tiara with snake-scale embellishments and a small diamond at the center on her brow.

Loki had to wait with his own transformation until Hela had been secured on one of the knights’ horses and Thor barged into the carriage, almost filling it to the brim. He had to help his brother into his silver-and-red parading armor and fix his flowing golden locks under the broad, eagle-winged crown.

“How do I look, brother?” he boomed and tried to turn in the small space, but his huge battle hammer, Mjölnir, caught in one corner and almost punched a hole into the wall of the carriage.

“Very impressive,” Loki sighed and shooed him out, so that the handmaiden could help him get dressed in a flowing dream of warm, dark green velour and a wolf-fur collar matching Hela’s cloak. His golden crown with the small goat horns curving upward were the only jewelry he allowed himself, which left his hair to billow out into a silky black cloud that fell onto his narrow waist.

When he was finished, they let Hela back into the carriage, and not too soon. Before the knights closed the door, Loki saw the Triskelion Tower overshadowing the neighborhood they were passing at the moment.

“Chin up, eyes open, back straight, hands in your lap,” Loki instructed and proudly saw Hela mirror his regal posture. Her eyes, as green as his, glinted with anticipation. Then they heard someone announce them with a short fanfare.

“Remember, Hela, light steps like a cat …”

“… elegant as a swan, dangerous as a snake in the grass, yes I know, mamma.”

“I love you,” Loki whispered and gave her one of his few genuine smiles.

“I love you too, mamma.”

One of the knights helped first Hela and then Loki out of the carriage, and they proudly stood by Thor’s side as he was greeted by Maester Banner, as a representative of Midgard’s small council. Loki’s gaze swept over the crowd gathered behind the Maester and noted who was present and who wasn’t. When his gaze met that of a short but well-built, dark-haired man, he smiled and nodded once.

/^-^-^-^\

Midgard’s nobility held a grand feast to welcome their Crown Prince, his brother and little Hela to their capital. Roast boar, venison and fish were served on plates adorned with fruit, vegetables and native spices, which filled the large marble hall with their exotic aroma. They had brought barrels of wine from the south, but Loki was immediately taken with Midgard’s hot, spiced mead and ignored wine and ale for the rest of the night. He allowed himself to indulge in the new scents and tastes, and when musicians started to play traditional Midgardian ballads, he closed his eyes to enjoy the mysterious chords and rhythms.

At the other end of the table Hela was all the sweet, generous princess from the south and enchanted half of Midgard’s nobility with her wit and beauty. By the time most men were too drunk to sit straight, she still held the attention of about a dozen noblemen and –women. Loki then finally dared to leave his brother and his warrior friends to themselves and joined Hela’s select group.

“Ah, Your Grace,” a lady greeted him and offered him her seat.

“Thank you, my Lady, but please remain seated,” he declined and stood behind Hela’s seat, resting his hands on her narrow shoulders, “I enjoy stretching my legs after having been stuffed into a small coach for too long.”

Other lords and ladies then tried to engage him into capture his attention, but he seemingly remained captivated by his daughter’s tale of the lady knight, Lady Sif, who won last summer’s tournament with Hela’s purple-and-white handkerchief knotted to her breastplate for good luck. Now, an anointed knight of the Kingsguard, the Lady Sif claimed a white knot on purple ground as her House’s sigil. In truth, Loki was scanning the crowd for Lord Anthony, whom he had spotted among those that had greeted them.

“Your Grace.”

Loki jumped and spun on his heel, when he felt a hand on his elbow. He was met with a mirthful pair of large, dark brown eyes gifted with eyelashes a woman – or a bearer – would murder for.

“Lord Anthony,” Loki said and hoped his voice didn’t betray his glee.

“May I offer you some of this freshly heated, spiced mead?”

“How chivalrous of you, to not let your prince go thirsty,” Loki laughed, but accepted the offered cup. Lord Anthony merely smirked and turned half away, as if he were listening to one of the ladies, a woman with red hair, who asked Hela about details from the tournament.

Loki blew on his hot beverage and took a careful sip, while he discreetly looked Lord Anthony up and down. They had previously exchanged some correspondence – simple courtesies of nobles who were soon to meet and surely had much business to discuss. However, Loki had also dropped hints of his true intentions, and he had hoped the councilman would pick up on them. He had been sure he would find an ally in this man, but now he was not so sure. Either the man was exceptionally talented in the art of deception, or it seemed he was absolutely ignorant of Loki’s plans. This left Loki unsure as to how he should proceed.

“Your letters were truly delightful, Your Grace,” Lord Anthony said then and threw a quick side-glance at him. “I had hoped we would be able to talk about this hybrid project of yours in person. Roses are very fascinating, your words have only confirmed my beliefs. Such beautiful blooms, yet such sharp thorns. And your theory that hybridization might even strengthen one or the other trait … is very intriguing.”

Loki raised one eyebrow and allowed for a small smile to pass between them.

“Indeed, my Lord. We should meet soon and … talk about this project. I have heard that Midgard has some very interesting breeds of roses as well.”

Lord Anthony nodded and laughed at a joke the redheaded lady made.

“If your lady daughter would be inclined, I recently acquired a pony. It was meant for one of Ser Steven’s squires, but he fell and sprained his ankle. The poor animal is now unused, perhaps Lady Hela might like to ride a few rounds around the courtyard some time? It is perfectly safe, I assure you, Your Grace.”

“I will have to ask my daughter,” Loki said slowly.

“Well, if not, I am sure we will see each other soon. Your brother will sit in on one of the small council’s meetings next week, I believe?”

“Perhaps I will have to take his place.” Loki threw a glance at said brother, who sat at the head of the table, roaring a toast and spilling half the ale in his mug over Captain Fandral to his right.

“Forgive me saying so, Your Grace, but nothing would delight me more,” Lord Anthony said perfectly straight, which made Loki blush uncharacteristically.

“Oh, hush,” he whispered. “Council should not be here to delight.”

“Oh no,” Lord Anthony chuckled. “But I have never been one to separate business from pleasure.”

He then gave Loki a look so full of heat and hunger that it made him squirm. For a moment he was sure his knees would buckle and Lord Anthony would have to catch him like a swooning woman whose corset was laced too tight. He realized with sudden force that he had not anticipated this element of the game they were playing – and he was truly and utterly unprepared.

/^-^-^-^\

Loki let Lord Anthony wait three days, which he spent either in the gardens at the very top of the Triskelion Tower – the one which was used for storage – or in Maester Banner’s library, when he was not busy with cleaning up after Thor’s messes or accompanying Hela to meetings the ladies of the court held. Since they were only scheduled to stay for three weeks, Loki sending a messenger boy in the late evening to tell Lord Anthony he accepted meeting him the day after did not leave Lord Anthony much time to make his moves. But whatever messenger of power, arrogance or disinterest this long period of silence might send, it was purely founded on panic.

The night after the welcoming feast Loki had lain wide awake in his soft feather bed, his heart hammering in his chest. He had heard about Lord Anthony and his … promiscuous love life, of course. He’d also known beforehand that the Midgardian was every bit as attractive as people said he was. Still, he had been stupid enough to ignore this in favor of cool political reasoning.

Lord Anthony was the sole heir of the House Stark; a wealthy, influential House, not only in Midgard, but in all the Nine Realms. Their workers produced the best steel, which in turn was used to make the best weapons and armor. Lord Anthony also was Midgard’s councilman of war, which entitled him to – or even required him to – assemble a standing army worthy of a Realm. On top of that, he himself was a renowned warrior, who had won many tournaments and bested many anointed knights, which had earned him the nickname ‘Man of Iron’. All of this, plus the strategic placement of Midgard itself in the Nine Realms’ constellation, made him the perfect candidate for Loki’s purposes.

He’d never wanted to involve passion or – Norns forbid – love to mess up his plans. But when he still lay awake in the small hours of the night, cheeks heated and squirming to find a comfortable position which did not make him think of another body behind, under or on top of his … He had to accept the fact that he was very attracted to Lord Anthony.

To give himself time to cool his nerves he then waited with his response to the nobleman’s invitation and didn’t even mention it to Hela. He waited a day, then two, then three, and at last he had to admit that this was not some fleeting allure. This wasn’t like spotting someone with perfectly curled hair and wanting to bury one’s face in it; or hearing someone play the pianoforte with true mastery and wishing those hands would do other, more wicked things. This was like having swallowed a handful of glowing embers which refused to go out and remained smoldering, sitting low in his belly and distracting him from thinking straight.

When the fourth day after the welcoming feast as about to pass and he and Hela were having dinner in private, he decided to face this unexpected factor head on, like a true prince.

“Darling, Lord Anthony has invited us to his stables. He says he would like to show you one of his new ponies. Would you like to go tomorrow?”

Knowing his daughter, he had expected the crooked grin that lit up her face at this, and he felt cruel for withholding this from her simply because of his own inhibitions.

“I would love to, mamma!”

“Very well, I’ll send him a card after dinner.”

/^-^-^-^\

To be on the safe side, Loki wore his riding garb, just like Hela. Other than his daughter, who wore her leather trousers and split coat because she was going to ride a pony, Loki wore them because he was _not_ going to ride Lord Anthony, as much as his body seemed to disagree with him. He knew his riding garb was impossible to remove quickly or discretely, with all the stiff leather, buttons and laces. He hoped this would be barrier enough between him and Lord Anthony’s passion, because he knew his own restraint had already been worn thin in the four days he hadn’t seen the man. So he placed his hopes on clothes and a promiscuous man’s control. After all, they were here to discuss business.

“Mamma, smile!” Hela laughed and threw up her hands, in which she held her riding shawl. “It’s a beautiful day, and I can already smell the horses. It’ll be nice, I promise.”

They were to meet at the Tower stables, and Lord Anthony was already there. Loki had to keep himself from gasping, when he saw the black beauty he was riding. The stallion had a powerful neck and a flowing, curled mane. Lord Anthony kept it under careful control, but still its muscles moved under the silky fur, and when he reined it in front of them, it danced on its large hooves.

“Your Grace, my Lady,” Lord Anthony greeted them from atop the great beast and lightly swung himself off the saddle. He handed the reins to an elderly servant and turned back to Loki and Hela. “Forgive me, I was distracted by Lady Natasha’s newest acquisition. Isn’t he beautiful?”

“He is!” Hela exclaimed and clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh, I see we have an expert here. Then let me show you the pony in question right away, my Lady.”

“Lead the way, my Lord,” she said elegantly and placed her good right hand in the crook of Lord Anthony’s elbow. The nobleman offered his other elbow to Loki, but he ignored it and walked on Hela’s other side instead.

“I am surprised you waited so long, Your Grace, seeing how enthusiastic your daughter is about horses,” Lord Anthony shrewdly commented and threw an unreadable glance at him over Hela’s head. “On the other hand I am sure you are a very busy man.”

But Hela gasped and scowled.

“Mamma, you _waited_? How long?”

“Lord Anthony invited us at the welcoming feast, darling. I simply forgot.”

“Simply forgot,” Hela mumbled, shaking her head.

“Yes, how could you, Your Grace,” Lord Anthony said lightly. Of course he’d seen right through the lie, but done was done. Let him puzzle over the reason.

Loki was saved by the elderly servant again, who led a beautiful, snowy white pony out of the stables. Hela gasped again, but this time in delight, and sped up her steps as much as she could without running, which would have been unladylike.

“Jarvis, see that Lady Hela gets acquainted with Stardust,” Lord Anthony instructed the servant and discreetly disengaged his elbow from Hela’s grip to squeeze Loki’s hand into the crook of his elbow instead. Since the Midgardian only barely reached past Loki’s chin, this surely looked ridiculous, but it also kept Loki from ignoring Lord Anthony without causing a scene. A bearer and a male joined at the elbows was almost as inconspicuous as two ladies chatting while sewing. Nobody would look at them twice while they were taking a leisurely stroll around the riding grounds.

“Your Grace.”

“My Lord,” Loki replied, refusing to take the bait and start the conversation. Lord Anthony sighed.

“We are about as alone was we could get without causing a scandal, so maybe you would be so kind as to tell me what you seemed to be so eager to share with me in your last letter.”

Loki took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on his intricately woven plans and conspiracies instead of how warm Lord Anthony’s arm was against his.

“I thought I made myself as clear as possible, considering how unsafe correspondence by crow is. Anyone could have intercepted it, and even now a dozen eyes and ears must be here, ready to report back to my father. I cannot risk my and my daughter’s lives without absolute proof that you are indeed the one who received my letters – all of them, and unaltered.”

“Which is why I followed your instructions.” He pulled something from his pocket and held it up. “This is your token. A green silk handkerchief, with black lace in the pattern of wound snakes and a white crescent moon embroidered in one corner.”

“And?”

“The sentences formed by the seventh word of each letter are: _Even the sun which provided for us for so long must set. But before the new one may rise, I think it is the moon’s turn to shine. However, it is rare to see it without stars accompanying its ascend into the night sky._ ”

Calmed by the familiar words, Loki allowed for his posture to relax. Lord Anthony immediately picked up on this.

“You do not need to fear your or your daughter’s safety here, Your Grace. You are among friends here. I trust all of my guards, and I have spies of my own. They will intercept any reports going back to King’s Island,” he assured and guided them to a spot shaded by the branches of a tree.

“Very well, so we can talk here,” Loki sighed in surrender. “But let us at least pretend to watch my daughter ride, or else our cover is worth nothing.”

“She and Stardust do look marvelous together. A match made in heaven,” Lord Anthony laughed.

As much as Loki wanted to disagree with him, he was right. Hela, despite her young age and small frame, held herself proudly in the pony’s saddle and practically flew across the sand. They watched her ride in silence, until Loki sighed deeply. Lord Anthony threw a glance at him.

“Pardon my words, Your Grace, but … The way you acted both at the feast and now over those three days since … I would not have taken you for a blushing virgin.”

“I think everyone in the Nine Realms knows I am no virgin,” Loki chuckled bitterly. “Still, I have been cooped up in the palace surrounded by old men and family for so long that I have forgotten what it feels like to be paid real attention.”

“Schemes never do play out as we plan them, do they.”

“No, they don’t.”

“But you will still pull this through? Despite how offensive I am?”

To Loki’s surprise he could sense no joking in Lord Anthony’s words now. He looked at the smaller man, red-brown riding garbs, wind-tousled hair, meticulously trimmed beard and all.

“You think I find you offensive?”

Lord Anthony laughed joylessly.

“Why else would it have taken you three days to send me a message? I must have said something to offend Your Grace’s royal pride.”

Loki could not help himself – he broke into bellowing laughter. The noise turned several heads on the riding grounds, and Hela halted her pony in confusion.

“Uh, did I say something funny?”

“My Lord, it seems you know naught of royal pride, for if you had wounded mine, you would not stand here to make such funny remarks.”

Lord Anthony then huffed a relieved laugh and grinned up at Loki.

“Very well, Your Grace. Would you be as kind as to explain to me why you waited for so long to message me then?”

“My dear Lord, the first thing you must know about royals: we do not always have a reason to do anything,” Loki chuckled and did a lazy motion with his hand.

“I … see.” Lord Anthony frowned.

They watched as the Midgardian nobleman’s elderly servant built up a small parkour for Hela and Stardust to ride. Loki intervened once when he deemed one of the obstacles as too dangerous, but otherwise they were silent. By the time Hela started her first round, a cool wind had picked up, and Lord Anthony guided Loki to a small bench set into the stable wall, which provided some shelter.

“Perhaps I should have brought my furs,” Loki murmured, shivering once. “Usually I am quite resistant to cold, but I forgot that we are in the north now.”

“Here, take mine. I am used to the winds,” Lord Anthony offered and shrugged his short but thick riding coat off his broad shoulders. The soft furs – mink or otter maybe – had captured the nobleman’s body warmth, which now seeped into Loki’s back. He nodded graciously in thanks.

“To whom else did you send poetry, Your Grace?” Lord Anthony broke the silence again a while later.

“No one else,” Loki answered truthfully. “You are the only one of my network so far north. To the others I spoke to first in person. Most then transferred to the palace.”

“So what is it exactly you want from me? I hope I won’t have to go south with you, because as councilman of war I am much needed up north.”

“Oh no, my Lord, do not worry. I do not require you to go to Asgard, on the contrary.” Loki gave him a side-glance. “I rather intend to stay myself instead – if you can make me.”

Lord Anthony’s eyes widened in surprise. Then his mouth opened in realization.

“Ah, brilliant. By placing your henchmen in strategic positions all over the court you can safely leave and expand your influence north. But … what is the end goal?”

“This should be discussed in more privacy. For now I only need you to woo me,” Loki said cheekily and burrowed himself further into the soft fur cloak.

“Woo you? Well, it seems I already unwittingly did a good job at that,” Lord Anthony nodded at the cloak around Loki’s shoulders. He then elegantly slid a bit closer, so their thighs touched lightly, but even this innocuous contact sent sparks of heat through Loki’s body.

“Your second lesson about royalty,” Loki whispered, smiling mischievously, “you _can_ buy our affections.”

Then he turned away from Lord Anthony and fixed his gaze on Hela astride said nobleman’s pony. For a moment his mind saw true art in the way his daughter’s flowing black hair and white-silver garb combined with the animal’s snowy color and black bridles. It was like a promise of power and beauty, should Lord Anthony agree to Loki’s plan and marry him, thus joining their Houses, their power and their wealth.

/^-^-^-^\

Over the next few days Loki was busy with setting up meetings between Thor and Midgard’s most influential noblemen, among them most prominently the members of the small council. At the same time he scheduled meetings of his own, if possible before the appointment with Thor. He hoped to be able to ascertain personalities and political position, and if possible to sway them in their – or rather his own – favor.

Loki didn’t know what to make of Lady Natasha, councilwoman of trade – she seemed feminine and delicate, perfectly courteous and even slightly naïve on the first glance, but in truth he felt she was much more clever and competent than she let on. Ser Clint Barton, councilman of information, was quite similar to her in that respect, though he was more overtly hostile, especially towards Loki. He seemed to be a man they needed to charm some more.

General Fury, councilman of security, on the other hand was as blunt and overt, to the point of being insubordinate. Loki could not get a grasp on him at all, though it was clear enough that he was a reasonable man. But should it come to it, he would undoubtedly choose Midgard over Asgard any time.

Ser Steven Rogers, councilman of justice, was as honorable as a knight could get. His moral baseline was made of steel, and he would not budge from it. He was courteous and well-spoken, though he was fiercely loyal to Midgard. Like General Fury he would not betray his homeland, even for a royal command.

Out of the councilmen, Maester Banner, councilman of education, was probably the most neutral. As a scholar he was not terribly interested in politics. He often gave his vote to Lord Anthony, with whom he was close friends. In general he was a very peaceful man, though. He was often the small council’s mediator, whenever conflict arose. This made him a crucial man to Loki’s plans, because should the council not be swayed, Maester Banner could tip the scales.

Other important noblemen and –women, who sat in the parliament – like Lord Victor of the House Doom, Lady Susan of the House Storm or the freshly anointed knighted Ser Sam Wilson, who was fiercely loyal to his former tutor, Ser Steven – played roles in the political framework of Midgard that were almost as important as those the councilmen. In a way they were more removed from the childish banter politics could sometimes be, so they acted as a kind of regulation system. In case Midgard’s small council would not let itself steer in a direction Loki liked, he needed the support of men and women capable of swaying the parliament. Since the fully assembled parliament consisted of 150 seats, those Loki needed to talk to were almost four times the number of councilmen and –women. On top of that, the members of the parliament were less accustomed to handle foreign aristocracy, which led either to shyness or boasting – both of which were time consuming for Loki to handle.

Thor himself, the unskilled diplomat he was, always displayed easy comradeship and good humor, no matter who he was meeting. He let ale and wine flow, which led to a more relaxed atmosphere in most cases, though once it had ended in shouting and a black eye for one of the Lords.

The dinner with both Thor and Lord Anthony at his table almost cost Loki all of his nerves. Lord Anthony could not keep himself from flirting openly with him and making salacious innuendos, despite Hela’s presence. Thor was surprising good-natured about it, though, and even joined the joking, until Loki was uncharacteristically all flustered.

“I see the north becomes you, Your Grace,” Lord Anthony remarked. “Hela, would you not agree that your mother looks beautiful with a blush on his cheeks?”

“Mamma is always beautiful!”

“Of course, my Lady, that is true.”

“My Lord, please,” Loki implored, hiding his face behind a goblet of wine. Hela across from him giggled.

“No,” Thor boomed and set his mug down forcefully. “Please, councilman, continue to tease my brother, it has been long since he has been bested in the war of words! It will do him good to be on the receiving end for once.”

“Thor!”

“What? It is true!”

Loki, at the end of his patience with the two other men, set down his cutlery and crossed his arms.

“Aw, don’t be upset, brother,” Thor said. “Let the servants bring more mead, you seem to like it so.”

“You can’t buy my good will with sweet beverages, _brother_ ,” Loki spat.

“Not even spiced, freshly heated mead?”

“Mm, Midgardian mead is not just some beverage,” Lord Anthony joined Thor in his teasing. “We have whole honey farms, only there to produce honey from the sweetest flowers, only for mead. The spices needed for the sweet but still deep and rich aroma are kept secret – only a select few know the exact ingredients. And the heating process itself …”

“Enough, you made your point,” Loki growled.

“Also, I seem to recall from our previous meeting that you said royalty can be bought with expensive gifts, so …” Lord Anthony nonchalantly waved his fork and smiled sweetly at Loki, who frowned.

“What?” Thor roared in surprise. “You met my dear little brother before tonight?”

“At out welcoming feast, of course,” Loki cut in before Lord Anthony could spill his beans about their not so secret but still rather unconventional meeting at the stables. He could practically see how much the nobleman wanted to tell Thor, probably just to see his reaction.

“Ah,” Thor said, but still threw wary glances at Lord Anthony for the rest of the dinner. Always the worried older brother he had made it his task early on to be the protector of Loki’s virtue, innocence and virginity. Though he clearly failed in most of these points, and though they were both more than old enough to be taking care of themselves, he still maintained this role. Loki guessed it was probably and older brother’s instinct of sorts, to protect and keep younger siblings safe. Though while he played this role for Loki, and to some extend for his niece, he grossly lacked these instincts in his role as prince. Loki himself, whom most would describe as eccentric, egoistical and quite the loner, interestingly showed these calculating and dominating qualities a ruler should possess.

It was out of these reasons that Loki decided to prepare for the day their father died and left his crown, throne, title and power for the taking. He would not let his admittedly amiable and well-loved brother take the throne, only to bring the Nine Realms to the brink of ruin. Loki knew the difference between a well-loved king, a tyrant and a wise king, and he aimed to be the latter, should his schemes play out as he wanted them to. So far every piece on the chessboard of his plans moved as it should – only the unexpected mutual attraction between him and Lord Anthony might prove to be unfavorable, in case his plans dictated Loki to get rid of his apparent husband-to-be. And who knew what plans the nobleman could be concocting, now that he knew of Loki’s intentions?

/^-^-^-^\

The second week of the princes’ stay at the Triskelion Tower was almost over when Lord Anthony did his first true move. Every year to celebrate his late mother’s birthday he hosted a masquerade ball. Apparently the Lady Maria had been a charitable soul, so whoever wanted to partake in the very popular festivities had to pay for his or her invitation. Since Lord Anthony paid for the feast out of his own pocket, the thus collected money was divided between about a dozen handpicked organizations which fought hunger or poverty, or supported the maintenance and construction of orphanages.

Loki persuaded Thor to pay for their invitations, if only to add their names to the list of benefactors. Since there was more dancing than food or drink to be had at a ball, Thor himself only paid for his invitation, but did not plan on actually making an appearance. This provided Loki with the perfect alibi to attend the ball and see whether Lord Anthony would continue to court him there, in public.

Hela was too young to attend, since the masquerade began after dinner and was to continue through the night and into the early morning, or as long as their feet could carry them. As this night’s theme Loki chose the magpie, so he had the Triskelion’s best tailor make him his costume. It consisted of the deepest blue-black and pearling white satin and the softest black feathers, which covered his shoulders and ran down his back and arms to imitate his chosen animal’s wings. His mask was coated with white down feathers, and the magpie’s beak was made of black painted ceramic. Matching the costume, he had his handmaiden brush and oil his black hair until it shone and hung straight, instead of curling and billowing out as was its usual state. Like this it almost reached his hips. Underneath the mask she painted his eyes with kohl. She also wove some pearls and opals into it, and on top of it still sat his golden horned crown, to mark him as royalty.

At the ballLoki got recognized because of it, though he had problems identifying whoever was hiding behind fox, eagle, tree bark, warthog, butterfly and dahlia. Lord Anthony’s city house and its garden were overflowing with people in costumes – Loki doubted he even knew most of their names, but of course everyone knew him. He could barely make a few steps until someone wanted to greet him, talk to him or touch his costume’s wings. Someone even accused him of breaking the rules, since it was not allowed to dress up as the prince. A good look under the mask and into flashing green, kohl-circled eyes soon convinced the poor woman of Loki’s identity.

Since most of the present noblemen and –women were too low of rank and therefore shy to ask Loki for a dance, he was soon bored. Lord Victor took him for a spin once and tried to charm him, though the sleazy aristocrat – dressed up as some sort of machine with a metal mask – could not even warm Loki’s feet with his actions. Surprisingly, a red haired lady, who presented herself simply as ‘Pepper’ and was dressed as a nightingale, then stepped up to him. Her bearing made it soon clear that she was very probably a warden, and it was therefore strictly speaking respectable for her to ask him for a dance, though some still frowned at a woman leading a man over the dance floor.

She smiled carefully behind her nightingale mask and shook her red-blonde hair.

“I can see you thinking, Your Grace. Yes, I’m a warden.”

Loki blinked in surprise, though he should have expected brazen and dominant behavior from a suspected warden.

“I’ve never met a warden before,” he admitted and let her slow down the speed of their dance, so they could talk more easily.

“And I’ve never met a bearer – though of course everyone knows about you.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully.

“I can still see you thinking, Your Grace. You are asking yourself who I am.”

“My dear, you will always see me thinking, unlike so many of these specimens,” he whispered and pointed at the crowd around them with his magpie’s beak. Pepper smiled again at this and pulled them a bit closer together.

“Well, to answer your still unasked question … I am a friend of Tony’s. Of Lord Anthony’s, I mean. He sent me, because he was being held back by some minor aristocrats and thought you looked bored. And by the way, if anyone asks … I’m Lady Virginia. Only Tony and my friends are allowed to call me Pepper.”

“Well met, Lady Virginia.”

They slowly circled around each other and the raised platform on which the dancing pairs could show themselves to the crowd gathered around, watching, whispering and pointing. Many of these observing eyes were directed at Loki and his unconventional partner, though the whispers rose to excited murmuring when a knight in bright red and gold painted armor stepped onto the platform. Pepper frowned for a moment, but then smiled again and brought them to a halt.

“Your Grace, it was my honor.”

“My Lady,” Loki murmured, and watched in confusion as the red and golden knight stepped up to him.

“Your Grace, may I have this dance?”

Loki elegantly placed his hand in the knight’s cool, gauntleted hand and peered into the eye slits of the closed helmet. When he saw mirthfully glinting brown eyes behind the gold painted faceplate, it slowly dawned on him who was leading him to the rapidly emptying center of the platform.

“Oh, how predictable,” Loki sighed, but allowed Lord Anthony to pull them close together and slowly start to lead them in circles, the steps carefully timed with the softly playing music in the background.

“Predictable?”

“Yes, predictable. What is going to happen next, will you give me red roses, write me poetry and sing to me of undying love? No, you know as well as I that I would not fall for that.”

“So I must do better?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing Lord Anthony grinning behind his lowered golden faceplate. When he didn’t say anything, the Midgardian stopped their dance.

“What now,” Loki whispered, when Lord Anthony gently led him off the dance floor and through the gathered crowd towards where the low hanging branches of a willow provided some shelter. Still, whispers and curious eyes followed them until the shades hid them from view.

“Your Grace,” Lord Anthony began after he lifted his faceplate and guided Loki to a small bench by the willow’s tree trunk, “I would not court you openly, where everyone can see our budding love. Let them speculate and gossip, they are not important – but you are.”

“Mm, a poet after all.”

“No, not really,” the Midgardian nobleman laughed. “However, once we are married, these people outside will weave us a tale worthy of songs to be sung until the end of time. They will say my father wooed my mother right here under this exact willow as well; they will say your magpie was attracted by my glittering armor; they will say that maybe your daughter was my daughter all along anyway and our forbidden love resurfaced after years apart.”

“How absurd!” Loki frowned and turned his head away from Lord Anthony, so as not to show the nobleman the emotion welling up at the mention of Hela’s parentage. But apparently he’d still seen the pain and anger there, for Lord Anthony remained silent until Loki felt strong enough to face him again.

“Would you like to tell me?” the councilman asked gently.

“Not tonight,” Loki rasped and forcefully shook his head.

“Very well. Let us talk about more pleasant matters, perhaps. What would you like to drink? I can have Jarvis bring us anything at all.”

“Some mulled wine, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Not at all. I will be right back,” Lord Anthony said and slipped out from under the willow’s branches, in search of his elderly servant. It really did not take him long – he soon returned with a jug and two mugs.

“Much obliged,” Loki sighed as the nobleman poured him the mulled wine.

“So …” Lord Anthony sipped at his beverage. “I am sure you know about my reputation as a women’s man. Still, I have never actually courted anyone – and the time you granted me to do this is quite limited. Considering this, I wanted to invite you to a ride out onto the country. I have a house a few riding hours outside the city, we could have lunch there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Loki asked incredulously. “I planned on sleeping in tomorrow.”

“Then we could turn that lunch into a dinner.”

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“And keep me at your country house over night? How scandalous.”

“As I said. You granted me very limited time,” was Lord Anthony’s mischievous answer, at which Loki felt the heat rise to his face. He took a sip from his drink to hide his reaction to the prospect of a night under the same roof as the nobleman.

“Very well,” he replied after a while. “Since our correspondence can technically be added to our courting time, it should be socially acceptable for me to spend a night at your house.”

“Excellent. Let us meet one hour after lunchtime, at the stables, like last time.” Lord Anthony grinned broadly, like the cat who got the mouse and the cream.

“This is acceptable. However, we should still make use of this night we are handed here,” Loki announced haughtily, emptied his mug of mulled wine and rose to his feet. “After all, it would be selfish of me to keep you to myself all night.”

“Well said. I believe I hear the silence before the storm, Your Grace.”

Despite himself, all his resolutions and restraints, Loki laughed loudly when Lord Anthony took his hand and dragged him back onto the dance floor and led him in virtuous leaps, bounds, twirls and pirouettes through breathless hours, until they were almost the last ones still awake, the stars began to fade and they could promise each other to meet again in a few hours.

/^-^-^-^\

Hela was accompanying her uncle Thor to lunch with an influential merchant and then to a visit an orphanage. Loki told her where he would be until the next morning, and hinted at the why as well, though he asked her to keep this secret from Thor. When she asked why, he cryptically answered: “This meeting with the councilman is very private.”

He knew he soon had to tell her about at least this part of his plan – hopefully before Lord Anthony surprised him with a marriage proposal, or before Loki jumped the nobleman’s attractive and promising bones. Loki almost regretted having to wear his riding garb again, both because he’d worn it before and because of the exact reasons he had been happy to wear them a few days prior: they were awfully difficult to remove.

Loki arrived at the stable grounds with fashionable lateness, hair bound to a tight braid, and gloves and a light duffel bag with some necessities in hand. Since he did not bring his own favorite horse – as a prince he possessed a whole stable full of horses, but Sleipnir had always been his most beloved – he would have to borrow one of Lord Anthony’s. As he approached the Triskelion’s stables, he could already see the Midgardian leaning against the wall, while his elderly servant patiently held the reins of two beautiful animals.

“Which one is mine?” Loki shouted in greeting.

“Your Grace,” Jarvis the servant said and bowed.

“Loooo-kiiiiii, Lo-ki. Looo … kiii,” Lord Anthony sang and approached him with a broad grin. When Loki rolled his eyes, he explained: “I was just wondering about your name, Your Grace.”

“Since I was born the year my father defeated the Jotnar rebellion, they gave me a Jötun name, to celebrate this,” Loki sighed. “But you did not answer my question.”

“I will take the brown, the black one is yours. I thought she would match your hair.”

“Congratulations, my Lord, you correctly remembered the color of my hair,” Loki joked dryly, but admiringly stroked his hand down the black mare’s neck. She snorted lightly and shook her mane.

“I’m afraid Jarvis here will have to follow us, which means that we won’t be completely alone,” Lord Anthony murmured more privately, joining him in stroking the mare’s fur.

“Why do we need him? I am no woman who necessarily needs handmaidens and an entourage, and since your servant does not look very strong, I doubt you need him to protect us.”

“Ah, just stuff at the house I need him to do,” the nobleman waved off. “Spring cleaning and so on. He won’t ride with us though, so we’re all private until we arrive.”

“Very well,” Loki sighed and put his riding gloves on, choosing not to mention that spring was almost over.

Their ride through the city in the shadow of the Triskelion Tower was accompanied by a handful of Asgardian guards, who were instructed to make sure Loki reached the gates of the city safely. Loki himself would rather have left them behind, but they acted on either Thor’s or even Odin’s orders still, which Loki had no authority to override. The Einherjar in their yellow cloaks drew more attention towards them than Loki and Lord Anthony on their own would have, and since they were on foot, they had to struggle to keep up with their prince and the Midgardian. The crowd was friendly though, and the cheers seemed to suggest that Lord Anthony was quite popular. Some bowed or even kneeled when Loki rode past them, which surprised him. Even on King’s Island very few paid him that much respect. But other than that the city did not look that much different than those at home, even the architecture was similar, apart from more wooden elements instead of stone or metal.

As soon as the city gates were in sight though Loki forced his mare into a quick canter and saluted the Einherjar with an insufferable grin. Lord Anthony simply laughed and followed him.

Travelling in the carriage Loki had not had much opportunity to study or admire the Midgardian landscape. He found it to be much less constricting then Asgard’s thick forests, snow-topped mountain peaks and deep valleys. Midgard of course possessed forests and mountain ranges as well, though everything seemed softer and somehow younger and fresher. He enjoyed impressing Lord Anthony with his knowledge of nature, though in turn he was surprised about how intelligent and learned the nobleman himself was, not just for a man.

After about one hour of calm riding Lord Anthony proposed to have a break. They let the horses graze freely on the lush meadow and spread a thick blanket on the ground, so they could stretch out and bathe in the surprisingly intense sunlight. As long as they lay flat the cool wind was less biting and they could enjoy the nice afternoon. They used their fur-lined cloaks as pillows, since the air was much warmer when they were sheltered by the high grass.

Lord Anthony had also brought a small flask of wine and two cups, into which he poured the sweet smelling wine.

“To what shall we drink?” Loki asked lazily and propped himself up on one elbow. The sun glared surprisingly bright and made him squint, which probably didn’t look very attractive, but he felt good and he doubted Lord Anthony minded the wrinkles.

“To Your Grace’s plans, may they succeed!” Lord Anthony proposed and held up his cup.

“You are mocking me.”

“No.” He suddenly looked serious. “I am glad you chose me to play with.”

Stunned, Loki let the Midgardian practically manhandle him into reciprocating the toast. They silently drank their wine, squinting up at the perfect blue sky and playing with the dancing grass. Loki turned so he lay belly down and observed a funny little bug with a green shimmering carapace. Like this he couldn’t see what Lord Anthony was doing, and was surprised when he suddenly felt hands on his head.

“Please hold still,” the nobleman asked, sounding focused.

“What are you doing?”

“Crowning you.”

Loki blinked, before he suddenly realized that Lord Anthony must have been weaving a flower crown, which he was now trying to fit onto Loki’s head.

“Thank you,” he said softly when the Midgardian pulled back, still frowning in concentration.

The man only hummed and settled back onto the blanket with closed eyes. Feeling playful and young, Loki rolled over until he was nestled against the nobleman’s side and their faces were only inches apart.

“Thank you,” he repeated with a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The look Lord Anthony gave him then – content and warm, like this moment was perfect, like _Loki_ was perfect – reminded him so much of someone else that he had to hide his face, or he feared Lord Anthony might see too much. The man was not stupid however, he still saw something – Loki noticed his worry; that he’d done something wrong, or shown too much himself. Maybe he saw Loki’s distress in the way he arched his back away from him or how the grip of his fingers around his upper arm tightened.

Somehow this was worse than Loki could have imagined, even after he accepted his attraction to Lord Anthony. Attraction and lust were often mistaken for love and devotion. He did not make that mistake, not when he had grown up to parents who loved each other deeply, but didn’t lust after each other. Their love had grown from years of trust and a deep understanding and tolerance. Loki was too young to know this kind of love for himself yet, but once he had thought to know one whom he might get to love that way. And when it had turned out to be a lie, he accepted that there would never be a love this pure for him.

Now that maybe he had the chance to experience it, now that he was given hope, he prayed that it was just an illusion; that Lord Anthony was just a very good conman, who managed to make Loki believe. He could bear marrying a man he was attracted to. But he could not bear to marry a man he knew he would love one day – and then have to sacrifice him for the greater good, on the altar of his ambitions.

/^-^-^-^\

They rode the rest of the way in a more somber and tentative mood. Loki had put on his mask of the unobtainable prince again, and while it amused him to see Lord Anthony struggle to get through to him, he knew he shouldn’t keep this act up for too long. Maintaining this balance between familiarity and distance required great finesse from Loki, and it tired him out more thoroughly than the quite slow pace of their travelling.

After another hour or so of riding they entered a small wood, and Loki immediately felt a shift in Lord Anthony’s demeanor as soon as its shadow fell upon them.

“We are close, yes?” he asked and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. Midgard’s sun might be warm, but its shadows were the cooler for it.

“Yes. This wood belongs to the estate,” Lord Anthony answered grimly and ducked under a low hanging branch.

Confused, Loki took in the mood this forest projected. It wasn’t very dark, not like the fir woods of Asgard with its gnarled roots, foul beasts and the unmistakable odor of decay and humidity. The trees here had leaves instead of needles, and the light filtering through them was soft and golden. The floor was clear of thorny bushes, instead of it grew bright green fern and even a few patches of small white flowers among cushions of moss. It smelled of fresh sap and fertile earth. Since all of this could not explain Lord Anthony’s sudden glumness Loki decided that it had to be a bad memory, which unexpectedly haunted his mind, but because the path was quite narrow they had to ride behind each other, which kept Loki from investigating.

Before his curiosity could get the better of him however, the path led to a small glade, where Lord Anthony halted his horse and let it graze. His large brown eyes immediately met Loki’s.

“There’s something you need to know,” the nobleman said and looked away.

“There is always much to know about anyone,” Loki replied gently.

The Midgardian took a deep breath and let it out forcefully, turning his face upwards to where the pale but strong sun gazed down at them. Loki let him have his time – whatever it was, it had to be important.

“I grew up here,” Lord Anthony began, but hesitated again. Close by a cuckoo called and he looked in the direction the sound came from. “This wood belongs to the Stark Mansion, where we are going. Where I was born and raised. It used to be the main seat of our family, even after my father became councilman of war and spent most of his time at the Triskelion Tower. My mother and I stayed behind, of course. Jarvis was there as well, and he did what he could, but what can you do when the father is away and the mother is shutting herself away in dark rooms, with nothing but wine and mead as her companions?” He sighed and absentmindedly stroked his horse’s neck. “Anyway, that wasn’t what I wanted to tell you. I haven’t been back here in years, you know. The last time I brought someone here …” He trailed off.

“It was someone important,” Loki finished the sentence softly and waited for Lord Anthony to continue, but he only stared into the forest. “Did she … Did something happen?”

“Not the way you think, no. She didn’t die. In fact, you met her.”

Loki thought for a moment. There had been many ladies at court he’d met, it was difficult to remember all their names and faces. But then he realized: “Lady Virginia. Pepper.”

Lord Anthony nodded solemnly.

“You were lovers,” Loki continued breathlessly. “And you still love her, but … She didn’t know then that she was a warden, did she? And of course it would be forbidden for the sole heir of such an important house to marry a barren woman, who would be unable to give him heirs.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

“This is _her_ place,” Loki whispered, feeling a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, on his heart.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought that you deserved to know about … her and me, the history of this place.” Lord Anthony swallowed visibly. “That while I am ready and happy to play my part in your schemes, I can’t promise to love you. I can’t promise you a happy marriage, should you still want it.”

Incredulously, Loki stared at the nobleman. Then he pressed his gloved hand to his mouth and suppressed the bittersweet laugh welling up in his throat. He’d hoped not being able to hope, and here it was. He’d wished for this, for something other than love, and here it was. He’d wanted it, so why did it still hurt? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time that he welcomed the darkness hidden deep inside him. It would make things easier.

As soon as he had swallowed the lump in his throat Loki bitterly asked: “What did you expect of me, Loki Silvertongue of the House Búri of Asgard, mother of Hela and second heir to the throne, shadow of Thor the Golden; Loki the trickster, the traitor, the turn cloak; Loki, who is scheming to take over power over the Nine Realms, with his own brother as his mindless puppet? Did you think of me as the sweet, pretty princess? Or the walking and talking breeding machine? A thing to be used by you? Or maybe you thought I secretly had a soft heart, a hidden longing for forgiveness, understanding and love.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and gripped his horse’s mane for stability, gripped until the leather of his gloves creaked, since the whole world seemed to sway and pulse, and the only focus were Lord Anthony’s wide, dark eyes. “I am broken, never to be fixed, but rather than retreating to tend to my wounds I take my shards and make those bleed who broke me, _I made him bleed_ , I made him _pay_ for what he did. Do not ever think you understand me, my Lord. No one knows me,” Loki snarled and forced his expression to smooth out and his voice to soften. “I will not expect love, so do not worry. You cannot hurt me.”

Lord Anthony looked at him blankly for a moment, unreadable to Loki.

“Who hurt you?” the nobleman then asked gently.

_It is no business of yours_ , Loki wanted to scream, but it would have been a lie. He knew that this was essential to who he was and why he was doing what he did now. It would be good, not having to hide everything from at least one soul.

“I was nineteen,” Loki whispered, watching as the Midgardian led his horse closer to his. “I thought he loved me.”

“Hela’s father?”

“His name was Angr. He was a free knight, looking for glory and riches.” Loki shook his head. “I was young and naïve – easy bait. At first I was blinded by his words and the way he made me feel … I liked making my father angry, too. I thought it was a game. But then I fell in love. I didn’t mind when he hurt me, it was just a scratch, just a small bruise, it was nothing, it was my fault, I didn’t need anyone’s help. Then I got pregnant.”

Lord Anthony hissed.

“He left you.”

“My father wanted to silence him with money at first, and take the child from me as soon as I gave birth, but I was … _so angry_. I’d believed he would stay with me forever, that he would marry me and that we would be happy together, as a family. The day I told him about my pregnancy – immediately after I found out – he hurt me like never before. He broke bones, cut me and choked me until I passed out. Eventually my mother must have found me, lying in my own blood on the floor.” He turned his head away from Lord Anthony’s shocked expression. “The Einherjar couldn’t find Angr, so my father promised anyone money who brought him his head. Ten thousand in gold, I believe.”

“I remember hearing about this – I thought he stole something,” Lord Anthony whispered.

“He’d escaped Asgard already, of course, but no one knew where to – except me.” Loki met the nobleman’s gaze. “Broken ankle, arm and ribs, concussion, blood loss and pregnancy, I hunted him regardless. He was Jötunn, you see, and while he’d hidden that fact, _I knew_. I chased him like the worthless scum he was; I followed him onto the fields of eternal ice and brought my father his head.”

“Who else knows?” the Midgardian asked after a moment of silence.

“Only my father, mother and brother. Maybe Captain Fandral and his companions, the Warriors Three, who led the Einherjar on their chase; Maestra Idunn, who confirmed my pregnancy and treated my wounds; Sigyn, my former handmaiden. Hela only knows that her father is dead.” Loki shuddered. “One day I will have to tell her.”

“Who we think we are and who others think we are,” Lord Anthony said sadly. “I’m sorry, I should never have assumed … Well, there were rumors of course. Stories told. Prince Loki, the scholar. He likes to read and spends a lot of time with his daughter. Looks are important to him, but he never wears jewelry. He likes to ride and is an excellent host.” He sighed. “While so far everything seems to be true, this isn’t all there is to you, obviously. I shouldn’t have assumed it was.”

“And from what I heard about you I would have expected you to be in bed with women half of the time and make bold speeches the other half of your time,” Loki joked, but sobered quickly, when Lord Anthony didn’t laugh. “Everyone seems to forget that we are people, too. And not just names and faces, which produce gossip.”

“I’m glad we agree on that.”

Loki brought his horse closer to Lord Anthony’s, pulled off his glove and held out his right hand.

“Well met. My name is Loki,” he said. The nobleman raised his eyebrows in surprise, but took off his gloves as well and shook Loki’s hand with a grin.

“Well met. Call me Tony.”

/^-^-^-^\

When they arrived at the Stark Mansion it was early evening and there were already lights illuminating the tall but narrow windows. The huge brick house was surrounded by a large garden, where old trees grew, and thus fit perfectly into the surrounding woods. Jarvis greeted them, took Loki’s satchel and handed the horses’ reins to a stable boy.

“Would you like to refresh yourself first, Your Grace, my Lord? I can bring you to your rooms first – dinner will be ready whenever you wish.”

“The rooms first,” Loki sighed. “But I am quite hungry, what do you mean, Tony?”

He noticed Jarvis’ surprise at the familiar nickname and smiled quietly.

“I need to change my clothes, but we can eat right afterwards,” Tony said and offered Loki his elbow to lead him up the stairs and into the mansion. “Thank you, Jarvis, we will eat in half an hour. And give me the bag, I can show Loki to his rooms myself.”

The servant made a skeptical face, but handed the duffel bag to his master and walked away, no doubt to oversee dinner.

The mansion’s interior was as warm and at the same time majestic and simple as on the outside. Brown and reddish colors were in the majority, but cream colored curtains, golden ornamentation and porcelain pieces brightened the mood. All in all it projected the feeling of home, despite the enormous height of the rooms Tony led him through – the entrance hall, a salon, a small library and another, more private sitting room. Apparently the stairs in the entrance hall did not lead to the private wing, but one rather needed to use the stairs further at the back of the mansion.

“I’ll be in the master bedroom, of course, but …” Tony threw a glance up at Loki. “Uh, I told Jarvis to prepare the room right beside it for you, you know, um …”

Loki chuckled.

“So Stark Mansion is no different to the King’s Palace. There are secret doorways?”

“In case, uh, you needed something. At night.” Tony cleared his throat, but then grinned brightly, with no shame whatsoever. “I can be very helpful.”

“Mmh,” Loki hummed, enjoying the tingling sensation flooding his body at the prospect of some distraction from this mess. Why could the execution of plans never be as straightforward and easy as one thought they would? Well, he would get something out of this anyway, it seemed.

“Scandalous, I know,” Tony continued, snickering. “But now we both know you’re not as chaste as you make everyone believe you are.”

“I’m just careful.”

“Of course. I’m careful too. We can be careful together.”

“Tony!”

“What? We’re friends now, right? I can be blunt to you – or do I need to call you ‘Your Grace’ again?”

“Please,” Loki moaned, “no more drawbacks. Go ahead and propose to me already!”

“Patience, dear, patience. Dinner first, marriage proposal later.” Tony patted Loki’s arm and led him down a corridor, past broad, wooden doors. Their steps were muffled by the thick, red carpet, and their way was lit by novel gas lamps, showing House Stark’s innovative and pioneering spirit.

“This is your room. Mine is over here.” Tony hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. “Do you need help or shall I leave you to it? Jarvis will come and get us later.”

“I would be grateful for your help,” Loki said cheekily. “As you see this garb has lots of complicated buttons, laces and loops.”

“Of course. As I said, I can be very helpful,” Tony grinned and led the way into the guestroom. It was well lit as well, but the colors were dominated by blue instead of brown and red. The large room was furthermore divided into subsections by thin paper blinds, lending it a comfortable air of privacy and exclusivity. Tony had set Loki’s duffel bag onto the neat bed and waited patiently.

“Over here,” Loki said and waved him behind one of thescreens. “Bring me the hairbrush and the blouse.”

“Blouse,” he heard Tony chuckle quietly, but the nobleman shortly after stood beside Loki with the requested items. Loki had already gotten rid of the cloak and jacket, but now came the more tricky part.

“The vest and trousers are held closed and connected by these laces,” he explained and trailed his fingers down one of the seams. “I need you to start to open them, since I cannot reach this far behind my back.”

Tony only hummed and started his slow, frustrating work. Despite his rather short and solid fingers he worked quickly and had soon loosened enough so Loki could take over.

“Thank you. While I finish this, could you start undoing my boots?”

“Good grace, couldn’t you have started with them? Now you’ve gotten me all riled up, after working this closely to your shapely bottom.”

Loki blushed furiously, but still managed to give Tony a reprieving glare.

“I hope you like my feet, then,” he growled and tugged at the buttons holding the vest’s collar down across his chest.

“Now that you mention it, I do recall having a tiny bit of a foot fetish,” Tony murmured from his kneeling position by Loki’s feet.

“A foot what?”

“Foot fetish. Don’t you southerners know about fetishes?” When Loki shook his head, Tony sighed. “I would have thought a boy like you would have gotten into contact with more … I mean, less restrained people. You know … handcuffs, whips, clamps …”

“What does that have to do with feet?” Loki grumbled, blushing even further. Tony chuckled.

“So you do know about bondage at least. Well, I do hope you know that pleasure doesn’t only come from snakes in caves. Ow!” He ducked under Loki’s second strike aimed at his head with a laugh. “Some people like to rub their snakes on tits, or butts – ow! And some like feet.”

“Cease this filthy language, you northern peasant,” Loki snarled, raising his hand again in warning.

“Peace, princess,” Tony laughed and patted Loki’s calf to make him lift his foot, so he could slide the boot off of it. “And don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

“You will not!”

“Oh yes I will. I bet you’ve only ever pleasured men with – ow! Very well, so you are not one or dirty talking, huh? Anyway, I wanted to show you the secret pass- … Ow! Passage, for Norn’s sake! It’s a completely normal word!” Tony complained and rubbed his head. “It’s behind that painting. A small lever.”

Loki glared at him in warning before turning his back on the Midgardian and looking for the mechanism. When he found it, he pulled at the lever, and a narrow section of the wall first slid in and then away to the left. The same happened on the other side of the short tunnel, revealing a lamp lit, red and gold decorated room.

“See?” Tony grinned proudly.

“Does it stay open?” Loki asked and peered through.

“Until you pull the lever again, yes.”

“Good. Now go through,” he ordered.

“What? I thought things were getting interesting here … Aah!” Tony screamed, when Loki gave him a hard shove and pushed him through the narrow opening. As soon as he reached the other side Loki pulled at the mechanism and sent one last grin to Tony, who gave him an incredulous look through the closing gap.

/^-^-^-^\

Loki wore a thin, white blouse and his black leather riding trousers to dinner, with his hair billowing unhindered over his shoulders and down his back and chest. Jarvis collected both him and a jumpy, energetic Tony and brought them downstairs into the dining room. Out of the corners of his eyes Loki gave Tony an once-over.

Fitting the private setting he only wore a long-sleeved shirt and a short unbuttoned vest after Midgardian fashion. Both pieces, as well as the trousers and his shoes were a warm, dark brown, which matched the interior of the dining room with its wood panel walls and the old, gnarled table.

Jarvis served them a light vegetable soup first, which they ate in calculating silence. Tony also drank a yellow wine to it, but Loki didn’t touch it, not even when a delicious, fresh fish, garnished with strange, Midgardian spices and small potatoes was served.

After the third course, grilled meat and vegetables, Loki noticed the way Tony watched him eat and decided to have his revenge for the teasing before. He made a game of biting, licking and swallowing the food in increasingly frustrating ways, which led to Tony having a bright red face during the fourth course, which consisted of rice and hot-and-sour chicken curry after a recipe Loki recognized from Alfheim. Still neither of them had spoken a word.

“Do you need some fresh air?” Loki asked sweetly after his first bite of chocolate cream, deliberately distributing it all around his lips and licking it off with a delighted little moan.

“I’m fine,” Tony replied with a strangely pressed, high-pitched voice and completely ignored his own cream in favor of watching Loki lick his spoon clean.

“You know,” Loki purred, “there is a good reason they call me Loki Silvertongue – and it isn’t because of my rhetorical skills either. Well, not _just_ because of them.”

“Uh-huh …”

“I could tell you anything right now and make you agree, yes?”

“Uh-huh …”

“Well then.” Loki snickered and waved for Jarvis to bring the last course, which only consisted of a tiny glass filled with very potent alcohol, judging after the rather intense scent. Despite this Loki held Tony’s gaze while he drowned the content of the little glass in one gulp – Tony himself didn’t even seem to notice what he was drinking.

“Shall we retreat to our chambers now?” Loki asked.

“Yes,” Tony replied and blinked once, then twice, like waking up from a dream. “Our … oh … chambers.”

Luckily Loki didn’t have to help Tony with the stairs – he seemed surprisingly sober after the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. Only his glassy eyes betrayed some of his inebriation, and the way he barely held himself back from touching Loki when they stood in front of his bedroom door.

“Lovely Loki,” he sighed and shuddered a bit. “Sleep well.”

“Oh, but what if I need some help?” he asked innocently. Tony cleared his throat.

“I’d be, uh, happy to help … anytime. You know the …” He made a pulling motion.

“Of course. Good night, Tony.” Feeling bold, Loki leaned forward and planted a quick kiss to Tony’s cheek.

“Night,” he whispered and quickly disappeared behind his own door.

While he undressed for the night Loki thought that it was very unlikely that he would get a nightly visitor, despite Tony’s apparent lust. Even though he was good at hiding how drunk he was, he was certainly too inebriated to act upon this desire. Still, Loki lay awake for a long time, half waiting for the rough slide of rock on rock, a weight dipping the mattress and warmth pressing itself against him. He knew it was dangerous not to know what he wanted, but it had to be like this. He could not allow himself too much, but too little would not bring him closer to his goals either. He just had to be very careful, and everything would turn out well.

/^-^-^-^\

When Loki woke to an arm wrapped around his waist, at first he thought that Hela must have had a nightmare and crawled into his bed to seek solace in his familiar warmth. But then he realized that he wasn’t in the Triskelion Tower, where Hela was; the arm was too heavy, and the hand pressed low against his belly too big. And the breath tickling his exposed neck was too fast to belong to a sleeping person.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Tony said, and Loki could hear the grin in his voice.

“Filthy peasant,” Loki murmured sleepily and yawned, squirming in Tony’s arms to find a more comfortable position.

“Ah, ah, stay here.” A warm mouth brushed against Loki’s skin, trailing a path from Loki’s neck to where his nightgown failed to cover his shoulder blades. “You little tease.”

“Get out of my bed, I won’t fuck you this early in the morning.”

“No one’s saying anything about fucking, dear,” Tony crooned and pressed a quick kiss to Loki’s throat, before he slid under the blanket and made quick work of Loki’s nightgown, sliding it up until it crumpled into a messy bunch over his chest. Surprised but still slow from sleep Loki could protest only weakly. He also had to admit that his body reacted embarrassingly quickly to Tony’s deft hands stroking and kneading his flesh at his hips, thighs and buttocks. He already felt some slickness between his legs, betraying his arousal.

“What are you doing then?” he asked and playfully tried to pry his legs out of the other man’s grip, but a wicked mouth sucking at the sensitive skin of his belly quickly left him pliant.

“I call this pleasuring you,” Tony replied, muffled by Loki’s skin and the blankets, before he went back to sucking a trail from Loki’s belly button to his inner thighs, but ignoring his willing victim’s more sensitive parts.

“Well,” he sighed after he caught his breath, “can’t say no to that. As long as you don’t expect me to reciprocate …”

“Not yet, no.”

Loki lost his grip on time when Tony’s mouth finally began to work on the sensitive flesh protecting his entrance. He perceived only very little apart from the delicious waves of tingling pleasure and the sounds of his own body, be it the sighs and moans escaping his mouth, his quickening heartbeat or the wet, slick noises Tony’s tongue and lips produced between his legs. Loki had to admit that Tony was very talented and obviously well versed in the art of cunnilingus, though when he soon became desperate, he blamed it on the fact that he hadn’t engaged in such acts with another person in almost a year.

“Ah, T-Tony, I’m … So good,” he moaned and involuntarily twitched in Tony’s sensual grip. It only took a few more swipes of that wicked tongue to make him lose all composure.

“Norns, that was quick,” Tony laughed and shimmied up until he lay face to face on top of Loki.

“I still won’t let you fuck me.”

“No? Your loss.”

Loki, who was still slow and pliant from both sleep and a good orgasm, simply accepted Tony’s enthusiastic kiss and let his now familiar tongue plunder his own mouth. He fancied to think he could taste himself on that tongue, and even this little stimulation, added to the smooth heat of the other man’s skin in contact with his seemed to be enough to re-awaken his arousal. Apparently it was no different for Tony, who had done the whole work until now. Loki could feel his not unimpressive hardness pressing against his thigh and belly.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who preached chastity before marriage,” Tony growled and playfully nipped at Loki’s earlobe.

“Usually I would … gladly indulge myself,” Loki replied, trying to sound composed, but already having climaxed only seemed to have awakened his hunger for more.

“What’s different now?”

“I like to think that our relationship is purely political.”

Tony laughed again and sucked a distracting trail down his neck.

“Well, dear, if you say so.”

“I could … change my mind though,” Loki purred naughtily, raking his fingernails down Tony’s back in retaliation.

“Ooh … And how would I achieve that?” the nobleman asked with a barely suppressed shudder.

“You see, since it wouldn’t actually be socially acceptable, no one could blame you for … losing your patience with a fiancé like me.”

Tony froze, deep brown eyes searching Loki’s expression for something.

“It was bound to happen anyway,” the Midgardian sighed, but curved his mouth to a small smile. “You want it official? How about this: Will you, Loki Silvertongue of House Búri of Asgard … marry me, Anthony Edward of House Stark of Midgard?”

“Mm,” Loki hummed, leaning into the following kiss. “I will.”

“Then let us seal this deal.”

/^-^-^-^\

Back at the Triskelion Tower, Loki went all the way from ‘ice prince’ to ‘blushing betrothed virgin maiden’, just to throw Tony off balance and to spite Thor, who hated it when his little brother had “his monthlies” (even though those weren’t monthly at all). Hela on the other hand happily played along and converted into a shrieking ball of hair and crooked grins, haunting the Tower’s hallways.

“My _mother_ ,” she’d say in her most obnoxious voice to anyone who didn’t want to listen, “is _betrothed_ to Lord _Anthony_.”

Tony took it all in stride and overwhelmed them both with presents – starting with the snowy pony Stardust for Hela, and of course a gold-and-emerald betrothal ring for Loki.

“The wedding ring will be a ruby; Stark red,” Tony had whispered into Loki’s ear and kissed it.

Since they hadn’t made a public announcement, nothing was officially official yet, but everyone gossiped about them of course. Were they having an affair or was this a more binding arrangement? Apparently word had even reached the south, because one night – Loki was having dinner in private, with Hela and Thor – a raven reached them.

“It is from our father,” Loki said, surprised, when he saw the bright yellow seal.

“Well, what news from the south?” Thor asked with his mouth full.

Loki quickly read the note, shrugged and threw it across his shoulder.

“I made him angry again, it seems,” he warbled sweetly.

“Angry? How?”

“Oh, I don’t know, by disappointing his expectations and choosing a rich, powerful, kind, handsome Midgardian instead of some criminal Jötunn scum as my fiancé?” Loki gasped and pressed his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. “Oh my, how _could_ I?”

Thor, unsure whether to laugh or to shout at his brother, choked on a quail bone, while Hela loudly began to praise Lord Anthony and his wonderful gifts, declaring that she loved him and would be happy to marry him, should her grandfather forbid her mother to do so.

/^-^-^-^\

“So, what’s the big next step in your plan?” Tony asked drowsily from where his head rested in Loki’s lap.

After a private dinner in Tony’s official councilman chambers with just the two of them they had decided to work themselves through any and all kinds of Midgardian liquor, starting with the usual ale, mead and wine. The small hours of the night now found them sprawled over the divan, limbs heavy and tangled. They weren’t quite drunk yet, not so much as to fear embarrassing themselves, but enough to make their heads spin if they moved too fast.

“Mm.” Loki absentmindedly scratched Tony’s scalp, enjoying the feeling of his soft hair against his palm. “We need to economically destabilize the west, while strengthening the eastern kingdoms’ claims. I have the help of my uncle, King Freyr of Vanaheim and Malekith of Svartalfheimr, who will orchestrate the strategic raids of villages and cities along the westernmost branches of the Yggdrasil.”

“Pirates?” Tony giggled.

“Yes, pirates, but sell swords too. Uncle will have his revenge, and Malekith will finally have all of Alfheimr. In the meantime, my contacts in Niðavellir will flood the south with cheap, faulty weaponry.”

“And the north?”

“You,” Loki poked his cheek, “will help me reinforce Midgard’s and Niflheim’s armies, together with my dear friend, Queen Hel.”

A grunt.

“Yes, you told me that was what you’d planned. But why? Do you expect trouble up here?”

“I don’t expect it – I’m going to _create_ it,” Loki said, carefully wrapping his tongue around the words, giving them a clear, sharp edge.

This got Tony’s attention, and he twisted so fast in Loki’s loose embrace that it was painful for both of them, when his elbows dug into Loki’s side and Loki’s knees hit the flesh of his thighs. There was an intensity in Tony’s eyes that scared Loki, a deepness, a darkness that was dangerous. But just when the nobleman opened his mouth, trying to say something, the door opened and someone shrieked.

“Oh, Norns!”

“Pepper,” Tony said instead, strangled, and looked away, breaking the connection. “This isn’t- … I mean, it _is_ , but …”

“At least you’ve got your clothes on,” Pepper murmured from behind a bundle of paper, which she held firmly in front of her face. “Who’s that with you? I didn’t look too closely, in case it’s that chambermaid again, and I _don’t_ need to see- …”

“What chambermaid?” Loki chimed in, giving Tony a dark glare.

“Your Grace?” Pepper asked, at the same time as Tony assured: “No, I swear that was before!”

Now it was Pepper’s turn to glare darkly at Tony.

“Before what?”

“Uh …”

“Our betrothal,” Loki grit out between his teeth, carefully watching both Tony’s and Pepper’s reactions. The nobleman simply sighed and closed his eyes, while the lady’s face suddenly changed to a far too neutral expression.

“I’m either too drunk or too sober to handle this right now”, Tony groaned.

“Off. Now.”

Tony complied slowly, allowing Loki to stand. He slowly brushed some imaginary dust off and shook his overskirt out, before curtsying lightly and leaving the room and its tense atmosphere.

Back in his chambers, Loki had to steady himself against the wall, and not just because of the alcohol in his veins that threatened to drag him downwards, but also because of the fluttering heart in his chest. A sudden wave of nausea made him gag, but thankfully it didn’t come from his stomach.

His trembling fingers struggled to open the buttons and straps on his robes, and in the end he gave up completely, burrowing himself under the covers with his shoes, trousers and jacket still on.

This night he dreamt of a ruby slipping through his fingers and shattering on the bottom of a deep chasm full of rose gold fire.

/^-^-^-^\

There were only two more days left until they were scheduled to leave and head back south. Loki spent them trying to motivate Thor into redoubling his charm-efforts, even though the northern populace already seemed to love him. The three of them – Thor, Loki and Hela – made a trip to one of the markets, where Thor paid for everything Loki and his daughter wanted (mostly sachets of exotic spices for Loki and sweets for Hela). It would have been nice, hadn’t the weather suddenly decided to rain on their parade. Literally.

“How quaint,” Loki piped when Thor led them to an inn. Due to the rain outside everyone was trying to squeeze into the alehouses and inns of the city – the noise and smell of so many people in such a small space were overwhelming. Hela quietly plastered herself against Loki’s side, trying to hide between the folds of his overskirt and cloak.

“Would any of these gentlemen be so kind as to offer their seat to mine brother and his lovely daughter?” Thor asked a bunch of rough looking fellows, who had been engaged into a card game of sorts until just then. Tooth gaps were bared and dirty noses rubbed in glee.

“Thor, please, let us go somewhere else,” he begged quietly and tugged at Thor’s sleeve.

“We-ell, innit the prince and ‘is two princesses,” drawled one of the men, scratching his scruffy beard.

“Lovely indeed,” said another, grinning at Hela, who whimpered and pressed her face into Loki’s side.

“I would treat any man willing to offer his seat to some fine Midgardian wine or mead,” Thor continued, oblivious to the hungry glint in the men’s eyes. Around them more and more heads turned in their direction and slowly the noise level dropped. When two of the men rose from their chairs and approached Thor swaggeringly, Loki inconspicuously stepped closer to his brother as well, quickly stealing one of the daggers from the taller prince’s belt. He handed it to Hela, pressed her fingers closed around the hilt and hid it under the folds of his cloak. The girl’s breath hitched, and he soothingly stroked her tightly bound hair.

“There ya go, let the pretty, rich people sit,” roared one of them and did a mocking bow. Loki followed Thor to the chairs and sat on one of them, though he kept Hela standing, her arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Greedy hands tried to touch the fabrics of their gowns or the loose strands of their hair, but Loki fended them off with poisonous glares.

“Thor,” he whispered, after the oaf had ordered drink for everyone. “Thor, maybe we should head back, before the weather gets worse.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, brother,” the fool laughed.

Gritting his teeth, Loki concentrated on keeping Hela safely tucked away inside the protecting arch of his own body while looking for assistance among the crowd. There were some looks, shameful faces and bowed heads – no help would come from them, not even if things got uglier. Cowards, all of them.

Just when Loki was about to knock off a man’s remaining teeth, the door opened with a bang, accompanied by the howling of the wind and the rumbling of thunder. Loki exhaled and pressed Hela closer to his body, before he rose and greeted the newcomer with a small bow.

“Ser Steven, what a surprise.”

“Your Grace,” the tall knight said, quickly reacting to Loki’s openly pleading expression and taking his peculiar, circular metal shield off his back. “My Prince. I could arrange for a cab and escort you back to the Tower.”

“I would be very grateful.” Loki nudged Hela towards the councilman, who tucked her into the safe space between his body and his shield. “Come, Thor, pay this round and then let us leave.”

Thor pouted, but did as he was told, and as soon as Ser Steven engaged him in a conversation about his battle hammer, he was happy. They quickly left the hostile stares behind them and stepped into the rain. Ser Steven handed a street boy some money to call a cab for them, which quickly drove up the street towards them.

“Thank you,” Loki said quietly and squeezed the knight’s hand, when he helped him to climb into the carriage.

“No problem,” the man replied firmly. “I sent a messenger ahead – Lord Anthony will meet us at the gates and make sure you will reach your chambers safely. I understand he is … best suited for this task.”

Loki laughed softly and hugged Hela to himself, ignoring Ser Steven and Thor’s puzzled looks. The knight was right though, on all accounts – Tony really was waiting for them, a dark expression on his face and drenched from the rain. Loki did not miss the way his hand rested on the hilt of a sword tied to his hip.

“Thank you, Steve,” he murmured and clasped the knight’s arm in a brotherly gesture. “Your Grace, my Prince, my Lady.”

“What a warm welcome,” Thor bellowed, nodded a greeting and trudged ahead towards the Tower.

“Let us get inside,” Tony said, gave Hela a small, reassuring smile and offered Loki his arm. Ser Steven walked a few steps behind, his shield still tied to his arm.

“Mamma, what do I do with this?” Hela asked suddenly, raising Thor’s dagger still clutched in her small fist. Loki gasped and quickly took the weapon from her.

“I am sorry, darling, I forgot you still had that. I will return it to your uncle.”

Hela nodded seriously.

“Mamma, why can’t we learn how to use weapons too?” She let go of Loki’s cloak and went to walk beside Tony, watching the way his sword swayed with every step. Loki felt his hand around his elbow tighten.

“Bearers and females should not go to war and endanger themselves,” Loki said, trying to sound neutral, but his disgust for this rule probably bled through anyway. “If you had to choose, wouldn’t you rather choose reading, drawing and studying before fighting and hurting people?”

“Yes, but can’t we protect ourselves?” Hela blinked at them both from under her bangs. “These men in the inn, they wanted to hurt us. I was afraid. Uncle Thor didn’t know though. He wouldn’t have helped, because he didn’t know he had to.”

Loki sighed and shook himself slightly when they reached the Tower’s entrance hall.

“ _I_ know how to protect myself,” he admitted with a small smile. “You were too young yet to learn these things – but if you want I can show you a few things. Maybe … Tony can help us with that too.”

“Of course,” the nobleman agreed immediately.

“I would like that,” Hela piped and went back to hugging herself to Loki’s hip.

“I will take my leave now. See you tomorrow, Tony.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Sure. Your Grace, my Lady.” The blonde knight saluted and reattached his shield to his back before leaving the Tower again.

“Come, I’ll escort you to your chambers.”

Hela, tired from an exciting day, had to be carried upstairs. When Loki got tired after about half of the way, some impressive ten or more flights of stairs, Tony offered to carry her for the remainder of the distance.

“No problem,” he put off, when Loki thanked him.

By the time they reached the rooms Loki and Hela stayed in, the little girl was fast asleep.

“Bring her here, we’ll put her to bed.”

Tony carried her into the small adjacent bedroom and set her onto the bed, where she immediately snuggled into the soft covers. Her shoes were removed quietly, as well as her cloak and the rest of her damp clothes, apart from her petticoat. Loki folded them neatly and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s cheek before ushering Tony out and closing the door behind them.

“She’s a sweet child,” the nobleman said admiringly.

“Most of the time.”

Tony followed him to where he slumped himself onto a sofa and shrugged off his cloak and jacket before he began untangling his hair from the tight knot he’d bound it to. The rain and the humidity had added to its unruly, curly state, so now it hung over his back in a wild mass. Loki huffed in annoyance and rose to grab his comb. As soon as he started to wrangle with the knots however, Tony made an impatient sound and took it from his hands.

“Let me, you’re hurting yourself.”

“Sometimes I’m _this_ close to cropping it off, I swear,” Loki growled, indicating a small space between his thumb and forefinger. Tony was very gentle though, so he relaxed his back and slumped forward, after a while even closing his eyes and dozing.

“You sure do have a lot of hair.”

“Mmh.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Mm- … Huh, no.” Loki blinked and straightened himself a bit. “Are you finished?”

“I think so. Want me to dry it a bit?”

“No, I’ll just braid it as it is. Thank you, again.”

“No problem, _again_ ,” Tony joked and flopped down beside Loki, before he sobered and observed him braiding his hair with pinched lips. “I’m glad you are well,” he said then, hesitantly brushing the back of his fingers down Loki’s upper arm.

“I could have defended myself,” he replied darkly, choosing to ignore the affectionate gesture. “It’s just … Hela means the world to me; I can get irrational when her safety is concerned. And I’m once again amazed and upset about Thor’s … _blindness_. It’s like he’s carrying a torch with him wherever he goes – it’s nice and warm and bright, but it leaves him night-blind.” Loki sighed and tied the end of his braid. “Also I thought the people of Midgard weren’t that opposed to Asgardians. I really thought they liked us.”

“And they do,” Tony emphasized, “but there are scoundrels and cut-throats in any Realm. After a few pints and a bad day without work they’d attack anyone with a scrap of silk on them.”

“So … You are saying that your people don’t hate my people?” Loki asked coyly, glancing sidelong at the Midgardian.

Tony chuckled and slid closer, until their thighs touched.

“Well, if I am representative of my people … and you are representative of yours … I’d say there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Good.”

Both their eyes were closed when their lips met, hesitantly at first, but then Tony pressed closer to Loki, encircling him with his arms. He reacted by wrapping his own around the other’s neck, which earned him a muffled groan and an enthusiastic nip. After a while Loki pulled away though, meeting Tony’s confused and slightly hurt gaze.

“We shouldn’t take this any further,” he whispered, placing his hands on the nobleman’s chest, as if to put a barrier between them.

“Why not?” A hint of anger mixed into his expression. “I don’t understand you. I don’t know who you are or what you feel or what you want. I don’t know what to do to … keep you interested?”

“Oh don’t fear that. I still need you.”

If anything, this managed to even add to Tony’s anger. His arms around Loki’s waist tightened and his brow furrowed.

“What if I want more? You try so hard to keep this strictly business – but we both know that there’s more. If there wasn’t, we would be sitting here, drinking wine and pouring over letters and maps. But here we are, kissing.” His grip tightened even further, making Loki gasp. “Don’t deny it, liar.”

“What about Lady Virginia,” he hissed, squirming to get some space between them.

“Are you jealous?” Tony snarled, boldly leaning forward and capturing Loki’s mouth in a staggering kiss.

“She is your weak point – a liability. Would you betray me for her?” Loki asked breathlessly, slowly but surely succumbing to the low burning desire surging up within him, fed by strong hands rubbing his lower back and hips, and lips ghosting over his skin.

“She’s a warden. I could never marry her.”

Loki laughed joylessly and pulled away again.

“This is not about some words spoken to the Norns and a silken band wrapped around our hands. You still _love_ her. I ask you again: would you betray me for her?”

The other man suddenly went very still, eyes dark and unreadable.

“I didn’t tell you about her to make you doubt me,” he said after a while.

“No, but it _did_ make me doubt you.”

“Once she’d been the woman I thought I’d live with until my last breath. We were betrothed, too. But then she found out that she was a warden. And do you know what?” Tony gripped Loki’s chin and shook it slightly. “We didn’t end our relationship because of that – it was just the last straw. She was too good for me, you know. Too perfect. My rough edges did not match her smooth ones. I hurt her, and she twisted me; turned me into someone I wasn’t. We were in love, but we weren’t good for each other. We know that now, and while we still might love each other, we know we can’t be together.”

“Still,” Loki hissed. “What if I am found out and Odin threatens to have her incarcerated … or killed – but he would spare her if you sold me out? Would you not save the woman you love? I cannot trust you, _Lord Anthony_. So don’t expect me to.”

“So that’s how it is then,” Tony growled, allowing Loki to push him away. “You’d rather deny yourself some semblance of happiness for … what, a place behind Thor’s throne, from where you can pull his strings? Will that make you happy?”

The _yes_ sitting on Loki’s tongue suddenly felt very heavy and tasted very bitter when the Midgardian left his quarters. Almost as bitter as a _no_.

/^-^-^-^\

Only one more day left until they were scheduled to leave for Asgard. Loki wasn’t so sure anymore whether it really was a good idea to stay in Midgard and enrage Odin further, not as long as there was still this tension between him and To- … Lord Anthony. He could still save himself from hope and heartbreak, as long as he kept their relationship purely political, and physical distance would certainly help with that. Also, he missed his friends at court, those few he had. Sigyn, his former handmaiden, for one; she always knew the juiciest gossip. Baldr, and his betrothed Karnilla, too; his and Thor’s cousin had studied at the Citadel and taught Loki many things since then, and Karnilla was in and of herself a well of information. Baldr would become Grand Maester as soon as Loki established his shadowy reign. But most of all he missed the company of Amora and her sister Lorelei; the two of them were always ready for some mischief, and would surely help him forget the north and its distractions.

Instead he was burdened with his irresponsible older brother, who refused to pack. Or let the servants (and Loki) pack for him.

“You have not packed yet yourself,” Thor whined, but obediently began to fold his underwear, which was a task they simply could not demand of a servant. For a man as huge and loud as he was, he folded things rather neatly, Loki had to admit. He was right as well, because Loki feared that as soon as he began with packing it would either mean he made the decision to leave for Asgard, or that he would have to unpack again, should he decide otherwise.

He spent his perhaps last afternoon in the Triskelion Tower in his quarters, together with Hela. It was raining outside, and he’d slept in late; there wasn’t anything he needed to do anymore (aside from packing, maybe), so he decided to have a lazy day with his daughter. They huddled under a pile of furs and blankets on the bed, and Loki told her stories he’d been told by his mother, while he gently massaged the grey-cold skin of her left arm and leg with a special oil. After a few hours she even let him rub her belly as well, which quickly led to her falling asleep in his arms.

She was a beautiful child, Loki thought, gently stroking her black hair. Despite … _because_ of the grey illness. She was special, and unbelievably strong. He was indeed lucky, blessed even, to have her as his daughter.

A soft cough tore him from his reverie, and then a quiet voice: “Loki.”

He looked up and saw Tony leaning against the doorframe leading to his bedroom, eyes gently smiling.

“I did not mean to interrupt you – but I knocked,” the nobleman said, unmoving, as if hesitant to approach Loki and his sleeping child. “When you didn’t answer, I thought you’d gone out and I’d leave this for you in your room.” He made a small motion with his right hand, revealing an envelope. “I can come back later though.”

“No, no. Hela sleeps very deeply. Come, sit with us. What can I do for you?”

Tony cautiously stepped closer to the bed and lowered himself on the edge of it, eyes watching Hela intently for any sign that he woke her.

“Well?” Loki pressed.

“I don’t want you to leave.” It sounded like he’d bottled up these words inside his mouth for a while now, the way they burst forth. “You are probably the best thing that happened in my life since …”

“Since Lady Virginia.”

“Yes,” Tony said forcefully. “Yes. And I don’t want to give up either of you. I might not know you very well, but I’d rather die than give up the opportunity to get to know you. And Pepper is important to me – I would probably forget the color of the sky if not for her. So please … I ask you to reconsider. I wish to marry you and make you mine, make myself yours. There is … potential between us. I think it would be a waste to just … let go. Without trying.”

Loki pressed his lips into a thin line, to keep himself from showing too many emotions. He would like to – no, he would love to explore this _potential_. But before he could say anything, Tony traced a careful finger down Hela’s grey cheek and continued.

“I would like to be her father. Or any semblance thereof. I would make her my heir, so you would not need to carry my children.” An impish smile. “Though I certainly don’t mind if you would choose to.”

Loki blinked in surprise.

“How considerate of you,” he said carefully. Tony only shrugged.

“I’m the head of House Stark, I have the authority to name her a trueborn Stark.”

“No, I meant … all of it.”

“Oh. Um. You’re welcome?”

“Though if we continue the way we started, I cannot guarantee _not_ to get pregnant,” Loki continued dryly, though a small smile was tugging at his lips.

“Well, as I said. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Good.”

They bridged this short moment of silence with a probing, cautious gaze, before Tony boldly took Loki’s hand.

“So, I hope that means you are staying.”

“Do you see me packing my things?” Loki raised his eyebrow and regarded the nobleman coolly. The Midgardian grinned.

“I suppose that is a yes to staying.”

/^-^-^-^\

Loki woke to a calloused hand rubbing his back in small circles and a warm body entangled in his, skin to skin. Remembering last night brought a smile to his lips, but before he could open his eyes or say anything, a soft kiss was pressed to his mouth.

“Good morning, my beautiful Loki.”

“Tony  …?”

“Did you expect anyone else?” A chuckle shook the belly Loki’s hand rested on.

“Mm, no.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes, before snuggling deeper under the covers. The hand was still massaging and exploring his back, and it started to send exciting tingles down his spine, so he sighed softly and moved in a way that made the fingers graze his exposed buttocks.

“It seems you are hungry,” Tony growled, gripping the offered flesh in a possessive gesture.

“ _Starved_.”

Proving his point, Loki hungrily started to plunder Tony’s mouth, playing with the other’s tongue. They were just worked up enough to consider more, when there was a loud knock on the door.

“Your Grace, the Einherjar demand entry to your chambers. We are on the King’s orders to arrest you on charges of alleged conspiracy and treason.”

Tony swore a blue streak and tightened his arms around Loki, who was frozen with shock. How had Odin found out? And so fast, too. He hadn’t actually done anything yet, so that was a relief. The King could not possibly have any evidence … could he? Not unless someone had betrayed him, but he doubted that very much. Considered that, Loki had little to fear.

“Your Grace, open up, or we will be forced to break down this door!”

“And just when things started to get interesting,” Loki growled, but crawled off the bed and dressed himself. To the Einherjar he shouted: “I am coming, there is no need for violence.”

Tony got up as well and helped him tie all the laces on his overskirt.

“This has nothing to do with me and you, does it? I mean, I didn’t give anything away by staying overnight?”

The Midgardian almost sounded anxious, enough to bring a smile on Loki’s face. To ease his mind, he distracted him with a languid kiss.

“Certainly not, my dear. I promise this will be over and done soon enough. Odin can’t possibly have any evidence against me, except rumors and gossip. The worst he could do would be to demand an official apology of something of the sort.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Another kiss, short but sweet. “I will just need you to keep an eye on Hela. She can entertain herself perfectly well, but sometimes it can get out of hand. Let her ride her new pony, or something, that’ll keep her occupied.”

“Very well.”

The Einherjar had started shouting and pounding on the door again, so Loki could only ruefully let his hands glide over Tony’s still naked body one more time before he had to face them.

“Gentlemen,” he drawled. “Please explain to me why you disturbed me this early in the morning?”

“The King was presented with evidence of your conspiracy against the Crown and charges you with alleged conspiracy and treason, Your Grace,” one of the Einherjar replied. “We are to arrest you and bring you back to King’s Island to stand trial.”

“On grounds of what evidence?”

“The Lady Amora and the Lady Lorelei bear testimony to your treasonous acts and will testify against you in trial. They also provided the King and his council of justice with letters and other incriminating evidence.”

Shocked, Loki saw his world tilt, he was swaying, apparently enough to make one of the Einherjar reach out to steady him.

“Amora,” he whispered, grimacing when he felt fury welling up inside him. Betrayed! By his own supposedly best friends. Oh, what to do now, he needed to make plans, he needed support and a strong case; _the penalty on treason was death_ , he could not allow for that to happen. He’d known about the risks beforehand, of course, but he trusted his allies, or he _had_ , who would stand with him now? Who could he trust?

“Where is Prince Thor?” he asked. “I wish to speak with him, I need to explain …”

“I am afraid you are not allowed to communicate with him in any way, Your Grace,” the Einherjar who was holding him up said. “Since Lady Amora’s accusations imply that the conspiracy you apparently led was aiming to destabilize him and his claim to the throne.”

Distantly, Loki heard the door behind him open, and someone – _Tony_ ; could he … he could trust Tony – started to berate the Einherjar for their behavior. It was pointless, of course, they were authorized by the King himself – how could Odin do this, oh well, he probably had no choice – and it gave Loki enough time to gather his frayed thoughts and regain some composure.

“Please, gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s not make this any more uncomfortable for any of us than necessary.”

With one last look at Tony, staring after him wide-eyed in his half-dressed state, he let the Einherjar lead him away.

/^-^-^-^\

Nothing had turned out as Loki had planned, or hoped. He wasn’t given a chance to pack or say goodbye to anyone – he just got crammed into a steel-reinforced carriage meant to contain him, and driven out of the Triskelion Tower. When he heard the buzz of activity outside slowly fade to nothing, he knew they had left the city. Surely they would stop soon.

When they did not, Loki slowly started to panic.

What was happening? Were they in the same caravan as Thor and Hela? Had they even remembered to pack Hela’s things and take her with them? What about Tony, was he with her or was he staying behind? And what meant these accusations – truths, really – Amora had sold to Odin? What did she want in return? How could Loki prepare himself for the trial to come without any means of communication? Were they really going to keep him isolated until they reached King’s Island?

After a while of losing his nerves he took some deep breaths and sat on the rough floor of the carriage, legs crossed. His hands lightly rested on his knees and he calmly counted his heartbeat until he reached 500. Then he started to categorize what he knew.

Hela. He’d told Tony to stay with her and keep her safe and occupied. What would Tony make of that? Knowing his impulsive nature and Hela’s loyalty to Loki himself, the odds were in favor of them having either followed Loki’s carriage or at least joined Thor’s caravan. But even if Hela stayed behind, she would be safe. Nothing to worry about there.

Amora. He’d thought he knew her – that he could trust her. She and her sister were of noble birth, though their House was one of the lesser ones of Asgard. Nonetheless, her rebellious spirit and her manners had captured Loki’s eye and made her an excellent partner for his endeavors. Not just this one, but others, smaller ones as well. They had been youngsters when they met, and at that age Loki’s schemes had mostly consisted of confused time tables, honeyed seats or false messages. Amora and her younger sister Loreley had been enthusiastic participants, and when Loki started to plan his rise to power, they readily joined. So what could have changed to make them betray him? Amora’s main driving force had always been her infatuation with Thor, so Loki had promised to arrange her marriage with him once Odin was dead. He’d promised to make her _queen_. The only thing Loki could think of that would make her turn against him would be that Odin already promised her to Thor now. But even then, their bond of friendship and companionship should have been enough to preserve her loyalty – or not? Maybe she had never been his friend.

Odin. Faced with irrefutable evidence he had no choice but to arrest Loki, he understood that. But what of the trial? Would he really sentence him to death, in the name of justice? Loki shuddered and banned thoughts of his execution.

Frigga. He hadn’t thought of his mother for some time. There had always been a soft, unspoken bond between them, shared through gentle touches and smiles. But Frigga would never object to anything Odin decreed. He could not expect nor accept any help from her. It would complicate too many delicate things in the power balance Frigga maintained.

Thor. There was no way to predict the fool’s reaction to Loki’s arrest. He could either be very, very angry; or he would forcefully come to Loki’s defense. Now that he thought of if, the latter was more likely – but it was the same all over again, he could not expect Thor to have any sway in the matter. Yes, he was prince, yes he was the supposed victim, but in the end it was Odin, and only Odin who would impose a penalty.

Tony. Loki didn’t know what to think, or hope. Some part of him wanted Tony to stay in Midgard, where he was safe and surrounded by friends and allies. There was no way of knowing if Amora had incriminated him too – or any of Loki’s allies, for that matter. So far it hadn’t seemed that way, but if he followed Loki to Asgard, it could be seen as suspicious behavior. On the other hand Loki wanted his support. Despite not having known him for very long, Loki was quite sure of his loyalty. Yes, Midgard would always come first, maybe Pepper too, but he would not let Loki get executed without protest. It was not made public, nor was it sanctioned by Odin, but their betrothal was just was valid. It gave Tony some rights too. Perhaps he would be allowed to speak with Loki, and keep him company. He might have only been in this bland, dark carriage for a few hours, but he was already bored and anxious. He was also thirsty and hungry.

Following his body’s urges he pounded his fists against the wagon’s door until one of the Einherjar opened. Loki demanded water and food, which was given to him without much ado. But when he asked about Thor and his daughter, the Einherjar were tight-lipped.

“Worry not, Your Grace. We are bringing you home.”

What a useless answer. Grumpily, Loki chewed on the hard bread and cheese they’d given him and washed both down with a large gulp of water. This journey was going to take even longer than their way up north.

/^-^-^-^\

The great Realm of Asgard, first and supreme of the Nine, the Golden, the Eternal. Loki mused about the fact that its cities smelled and sounded just like any city they had passed on their journey south. King’s Island was the only exception, though one could barely call it a city. King’s Island was the palace. It was isolated and elevated, like a beacon. He could not see it, of course, not with all the windows shut.

His joints were aching. His knees and back were the worst. His eyes felt puffed, and his tongue dry, not matter how much he drank.

The last weeks had done nothing to ease the slight underlying panic. If anything, the silence, the loneliness and the monotony had only caused for his unease to grow, like weed. It slowly suffocated his hopes and his determination, until he could do little more than to lean against the carriage wall and doze blearily.

“Your Grace?”

Loki blinked in confusion, only now realizing that they had stopped.

“Yes?”

“Your Grace,” Næfi, one of the Einherjar guards, repeated. “We arrived on King’s Island. Would you be so kind as to follow me?”

Loki only sighed and accepted the Einherjar’s hand when he climbed out of the wagon. His legs felt unnaturally weak after such a long time of confinement, so he was glad for Næfi’s courtesy.

This area of the palace was not familiar to Loki, though he guessed this was the dungeons. There were only a few golden ornamentations to make it recognizable as part of King’s Island, but the rest was bland dark rock. No one else was around but him and the Einherjar escorting him into the torch-lit darkness. They passed empty cells and cells with one person inside and cells with several people inside. Some watched silently, some reached through the iron bars, some began to shout. Loki shuddered, but kept his head high and didn’t let his uneasiness show.

“Through here, Your Grace.”

They reached a part of the dungeons that felt drier and warmer. More torches were lit and more Einherjar stood guard. The cell apparently meant for Loki was barred on three sides and contained a small cot, a crude desk (more a table than anything), and a chair. The tiny window set into the fourth wall was barred as well.

“Will I be allowed to have visitors now?” Loki asked, once the Einherjar locked the door to his cell.

“Yes, Your Grace. Anyone but Prince Thor, King Odin and the Ladies Amora and Lorelei.”

Loki nodded and sighed in relief.

“What about my daughter? Is she in King’s Island?”

“Yes, Your Grace. She and her escort arrived a few days ago.”

“Her escort?”

“Lady Hela travelled with Lord Stark’s convoy, Your Grace.”

Loki nodded again.

“I would like to see them both. My daughter and Lord Stark.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

One of the Einherjar immediately slipped away, probably to relay the message. Now all Loki could do was wait.

/^-^-^-^\

They came the next day, early in the morning. Loki tried not to let his relief and joy show, but when he saw his daughter’s tear-swollen eyes, he could not hold his own sobs of happiness back.

“Hela!”

“Mamma!”

Loki gripped the iron bars, impatiently waiting for the Einherjar to let Hela and Tony into the cell, and met Tony’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he mouthed and received a smile and a nod in return.

Hela immediately bounded into Loki’s arms and buried her face in his neck.

“Mamma, what is happening,” she cried.

“Hush, my darling, let me look at you.” He gently pried her off his shoulder and combed her hair behind her ears. She was sniffling slightly, probably from crying earlier, but otherwise she looked healthy and normal. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye, my little bug, but I had to travel with the guards, and they wouldn’t let me see you.”

“Why?” the child whined and clung to Loki with one hand, while rubbing her reddened eyes with the other.

“A simple misunderstanding,” Loki lied and pressed a loving kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

“A misunderstanding?” Hela’s face crunched up in confusion. “But you are in the dungeons, like a criminal. You are no criminal, you weren’t naughty.”

Loki smiled uncertainly, not knowing what to tell her. Not just because she had no idea about his plans and scheming – she was far too young to be involved – but also because the guards were listening. He was saved by Tony, who gathered Hela into his arms and said: “Listen, princess, your mother was trying to help your uncle, because he will one day be king. But your grandfather listened to the wrong people, who told him the exact opposite – that your mother was harming your uncle.”

Hela gasped, outraged.

“Mamma would never do that,” she stated forcefully. “Mamma loves uncle, even when he sometimes does stupid things.”

“Indeed,” Loki sighed and retrieved his daughter from Tony’s embrace, breathing in her clean, child’s scent. “Mm, I’ve missed you so much, my little darling flower.”

“Can you come home now?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not. I’m not yet allowed to speak to your grandfather, and I will have to wait until he summons me, so I can explain myself.”

“When will that be?”

“I don’t know, little ladybug.” He gave her a sad little smile and combed her hair with his fingers, but despite the brave, wobbly, crooked smile she gave in return, he knew that she was confused and hurt, and maybe also a little scared, so he kissed her cheeks and her brow and said: “Tony took good care of you until now, yes? And he will continue to do so until I can come home.”

“He was acceptable,” Hela sniffed, but reached out for Tony’s coat and tugged at it, before she gave him her most brilliant smile. “Pepper knows better how to handle a lady, though.”

Loki perked up and shot Tony a questioning look. Pepper?

“Yes, uh …” The nobleman rubbed his neck. “She thought we’d be lost without any female help, and so far she was right. At the moment she’s infiltrating the women of the court, to try and get some information about Lady Amora and Lady Lorelei. She’s also gathering lots of gossip about you, and what the people think about these accusations.”

“And?” Loki growled. Damn this woman, he couldn’t even complain about her, other than she was too perfect to be real.

“No sign of Amora and Lorelei so far, but the people are uncertain, I think,” Tony reported. “It’s all very confusing. They know about your friendship with the sisters, so the logical conclusion is either that they’re telling the truth or something happened and they want to tear you down.”

“Or both,” Loki added lightly, but they both knew that this was most likely the case. They were telling the truth after all, but they would not do so, except there was something to gain from Loki’s possible demise and certain ruin. “Tony, perhaps it would be prudent to return later, maybe tomorrow, with more information, yes? And Hela could bring me some books, to entertain myself.”

“Yes!” the girl exclaimed and clapped her hands.

“If you wish,” Tony said more reluctantly, but the Einherjar apparently understood Loki’s words as their cue to open the cell and usher them out. Before they could, however, the Midgardian pressed a quick kiss to Loki’s cheek. “We will see you tomorrow then.”

“Yes, tomorrow.”

Hela waved a cheerful goodbye, happy at the prospect of seeing her mother again the next day. As soon as they were out of sight, Loki collapsed on his cot and huddled under the itching, thin blankets, possibly to sleep until the next day. Only that sleep of course wouldn’t come, not with that queasy, trembling feeling sitting low in his stomach that kept him from eating anything, and so he stared against the rough wall of his cell instead, waiting for his daughter and Tony to return.

/^-^-^-^\

A few days, and with them visits from Hela and Tony, passed without any news about Amora and Lorelei. Still no word from the king either. It put Loki on edge and did not necessarily add to his patience, though he tried to act as normal as he could in front of his daughter. Once Tony visited him on his own, though he did not stay long – probably because Loki exploded out of no apparent reason and started screaming at him. Though he felt bad about it afterwards, Loki could not bring himself to apologize the next time Tony visited him. Maybe because he brought Pepper with him.

“Your Grace,” she greeted him, smiling, but she seemed to be as wary of him as he was of her.

“Lady Virginia.”

“Aw, come on, you two,” Tony quipped, putting a hand on each of their backs. “You two should be best friends, I wouldn’t have it any other way! My best friend and my betrothed should get along swimmingly.”

But Loki saw the way Pepper tensed at the way Tony called him his betrothed, and frowned as well. So his suspicions proved to be true after all – she was still in love with Tony, and jealous of Loki. Well, he could not have that. He would not drive a wedge between them, between the man and the woman who kept him alive, kept him sane, not after all the danger he put Tony in, and what he already made him do. Enough was enough.

“I _was_ your fiancé,” Loki said, tonelessly, and disengaged Tony’s now limp hand from his back. At the wide-eyed look from the nobleman he had to keep his turmoil from him with some effort.

“What? But Loki …”

“It was just a ploy to gain influence in Midgard,” Loki continued, shaking his head. “I obviously have no need of that now, do I. It would just incriminate me further and drag you into this as well. No, I think you are better off with no links tying you to me.”

But Tony could not be his brilliant, interesting, enrapturing self and let that slide just like that, Loki knew that. So when the smaller man gestured wildly and started to protest, he simply turned away.

A soft “Tony, please” from Pepper stopped the desperate flow of words, wrenching a tired sigh from him.

“Very well, Your Grace.” Loki jumped at the way Tony’s voice broke at the formal address. “We were just … We wanted to inform you that apparently Lady Amora and Lady Lorelei are back on King’s Island. There are rumors that the trial will start soon, and be dealt with quickly. King Odin does not wish to prolong this by making it a public spectacle – it is already know that it will be a short, private affair.”

“Yes, and we managed to find out who the judges will be,” Pepper added in her smooth, business-like tone. Loki turned to face them again, showing them an impassive mask.

“Odin, of course,” he said, and she nodded.

“Yes, King Odin will preside the trial. Prince Thor was disallowed from being a judge, though, being the supposed victim. But the other two judges are Lord Týr the Lawful, and Lord Forseti the Just.”

“I offended Týr once,” Loki mused. “Though Forseti I barely know. It seems to be a well-balanced and fair jury. Nothing to fear then.”

“If you think so,” Pepper said cautiously.

Loki folded his arms and nodded, trying hard to ignore Tony’s stare burning on his skin. When neither of them said anything else, he asked: “And how is my daughter, is she well?”

“Yes, she’s with the queen, your mother,” Pepper answered in Tony’s stead. Maybe she was not so bad after all.

“Good, good.” He sniffed and waited for more, but the silence soon was too much for him to bear. “If that is all, I would like to rest now. The coming days will be demanding.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Pepper had to grab Tony by his elbow and physically haul him out of the cell, while he still stared at Loki, his eyes dark, and his expression even darker.

Loki did not sleep that night either.

/^-^-^-^\

They had been right. Odin wanted to bring this business behind him as fast as possible – apparently he’d only been waiting for Amora and Lorelei to return from wherever they’d been hiding until now. Two days after the unpleasant meeting with Pepper and Tony, the Einherjar grabbed Loki and hauled him into the throne room, where Odin, Lord Týr and Lord Forseti were already waiting.

“Loki Silvertongue, son of Odin Allfather, of the House Búri of Asgard and Prince of the Nine Realms and the Yggdrasil,” Odin droned, complying with the complicated traditions and rules regarding royal trials. “You stand accused of conspiracy and treason against the Crown and most prominently against Prince Thor of the House Búri of Asgard. What do you plead?”

“Not- …,” Loki croaked, cleared his throat and repeated: “Not guilty.”

“Swear in the names of the Norns that you will speak the truth, and only the truth, during the course of this trial.”

“I swear on Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld that I will speak the truth, and only the truth.”

“Very well.” Odin seemed to relax visibly after this and leaned back in his seat. He exchanged quick glances with Týr and Forseti sitting to his right and left. “This is a private trial, which means that each offender, victim or witness will give his or her testimony alone in front of the jury. Lady Amora and Lady Lorelei already appeared as witnesses and accuse you of conspiracy and treason. Do you know what acts they refer to?”

“Yes, I do.”

Odin’s brows shot up in surprise.

“Please explain.”

Loki, standing in the huge, but dim and empty throne hall of Asgard, his hair tangled and unkempt, and his clothes torn and dirty, raised his chin. He’d had enough time to prepare for this, after all. And he’d earned his title, Silvertongue.

“My King, Lord Týr, Lord Forseti, what I am going to tell you now will be exactly this: an explanation. From the very beginning I knew that my acts could be seen as treacherous and treasonous, so I ask you to at least consider that while Lady Amora and Lady Lorelei did not lie – they would not, since they swore to do so – that their perception of my acts may have been skewed.” He paused, waiting for Odin to nod. “Acts are acts, I concede, but do intentions not count as well? I confess to speaking with various people of either power, wealth, influence or knowledge about the time my beloved brother, Prince Thor, will undoubtedly become King of Kings. I confess to persuading most of these people to at least consider my words and to keep their ears open for suggestions or to even pledge their secret allegiance to me. I confess to making plans to further my own influence in the Nine Realms, and I confess to having already set some of these plans in motion.” He paused again, all but waiting for an interruption, but Odin gestured for him to go on, his frown a thoughtful, but not angered expression.

“All these things I might be considered guilty of,” Loki continued, “but still I plead innocence. I will tell you why: because I did this out of love. Love for my brother, love for the Nine Realms, love for the people. But I do not love my brother for his subtleness or his prowess in politics; I do not love the Nine Realms for their unity and peace; I do not love the people for their blind trust in us, we who hold power. I know my brother to be a great warrior, but a politician, a king he is not. Having been unable to teach him, to shape him, I resorted to shaping the Crown, the Realms and its people so they might fit _him_.

I did it not to profit. I did it not to harm my brother, the Realms or anyone else. I did it not to weaken the Crown. In fact I claim to have done the exact opposite.”

Odin was silent for a long time, but he seemed to truly have listened. This trial would still take long, because the jury needed all the details, and Loki had to tell them a lot, but he was prepared, and he knew, deep in his heart, that he was not truly guilty. He was not truly innocent though, either.

/^-^-^-^\

In the end the Einherjar brought Loki back to his cell, where he was to wait for the passing of judgment from the jury. Loki was exhausted from hours of standing, heavy chains attached to his person, and very well talking for his life. He knew his father well enough to know Odin would execute him without even battering an eye if he really thought him guilty of treason. The only thing he wondered now was what his family thought of him. Where was his mother, the Queen Frigga? What was Thor doing? How much did Hela know?

Sitting on his cot and trying to comb his hair with his fingers – he was not allowed a real comb, in case he poked out someone’s eye with it or something – he fought off the memories of his last encounter with Tony here, and the feelings of regret and sadness that came with them. It was necessary, he told himself, to keep his distance. He did not want to drag the Midgardian into this, much less incriminate him as well. He’d done enough, so he released him from any and all ties to Loki. It was for the best.

But the days passed, and while Hela came to visit, she was not allowed to stay with him for too long, and she always came with a nursemaid (she hated nursemaids, every time she visited it was a different one). He did not ask her about Odin or the trial, but he would have liked to ask her about Tony. Was he still on King’s Island? Was he in safety? But she never said anything about the Midgardian, and Loki never asked.

Torn between sending a message to Tony and pretending to have forgotten about him, he sat on his cot most days, twirling the emerald betrothal ring around his finger, wishing it would somehow summon the one who had given it to him. Of course it didn’t, and this only left him more frustrated than before.

_I don’t know what I want_ , he thought angrily, frazzling the frayed edge of his overskirt. _But it doesn’t matter anyway. The way I acted, Tony must hate me now. All I ever cause is trouble. How could he want me, after everything that’s happened?_

So he decided upon waiting for rendition and let everything just happen to him. It couldn’t be worse than the gnawing emptiness in his stomach that didn’t come from lack of food.

/^-^-^-^\

They did not come for him with handcuffs and a bag for his head. In fact, it wasn’t Einherjar or even soldiers coming for him. A priest of the Norns, Tony and his mother entered the dungeons and waited for the Einherjar to open his cell. Confused, Loki searched their faces for an answer, but the priest looked neutral, Tony was tense, and his mother simply smiled, her face and whole bearing as gentle, loving and open as ever, though there was a touch of longing maybe, or sadness. It couldn’t be too bad then.

“Quick, dear, we don’t have much time,” she said, took his hand and pressed it into Tony’s.

“What is happening?” he asked, turning to the Midgardian for answers.

“The passing of judgment is in half an hour. I have no idea what it is, but apparently there’s a plan.” Tony smiled thinly and held his hand, but didn’t squeeze it reassuringly. There were dark rings under his bloodshot eyes, and he looked ruffled, as if he’d just been woken up despite it being the middle of the day.

“Mother?”

“You must get married, dear.” She nodded enthusiastically and gestured for the priest to step closer.

“Married? But …”

“I know,” Tony cut in, his voice cool and smooth. “I already told her you don’t want to marry me anymore. That you never wanted to in the first place. Not really. Well, she didn’t listen, as you can see.”

But before any of them could say anything else, the priest bound their hands with a bright red band of silk. Red for blood, for life and death, for fertility and love. Loki felt nauseous as he saw his own thin, pale fingers over Tony’s strong, steady ones. Or maybe he felt nauseous at Tony’s words and what they implicated. Oh, what had he killed by breaking their betrothal, was he condemning himself and Tony to pain and suffering?

“In the sight of the Norns, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

Somehow Loki found the strength to look into Tony’s eyes, deep brown, eyes that used to burn with fire and warmth. His voice sounded thin and weak when they made their vows.

“Urðr. Verðandi. Skuld. Fate, present and future. I am his, and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

_I am his_ , Loki thought. _I am his, I am his, but he is not mine, he could have been, but he is not mine, what have I done …_

Satisfied, the priest untied the silken band and handed it to Frigga, who cradled it to her chest.

“Now, there is of course not enough time to consummate the marriage as per your northern customs,” Frigga said, nodding at Tony with a quick smile, “we will have to do this the southern way.”

“Oh no,” Loki whispered weakly. “Mother please …”

“Quick, both of you, follow me to the Yggdrasil! We will wash off your previous sins and you will rise together, as one, out of her waters.”

“Mother …”

“I know,” she said forcefully, suddenly all happiness washed off her face as if she’d just emerged the Yggdrasil’s waters. “I know this must be hard for you, both of you. But this is necessary. Please do it for me, Loki. I will not see you get lost. Or would you not do anything to protect Hela?”

“Of course.”

“Please,” Frigga breathed and gently traced her warm fingers down Loki’s cheek. “My lovely. Whatever happened between you two, you now have a lifetime to make it better. Together you will be stronger, I promise you this.”

“But what if …” Loki quickly bit his tongue, but his thoughts raced ahead. _But what if he won’t let me, what if I can’t open myself to him, what if he will never want me, what if I can’t bear the thought of having destroyed our lives already?_ But of course Frigga did not hear him thinking, and neither did Tony, so they both came to the wrong conclusions. His mother only shook her golden head and frowned.

“Hey,” Tony said, voice tight and so, so obviously trying to fit emotion into it, but failing. “Loki, I know you don’t love me, and probably never will. It’s okay. I don’t expect it from you. Remember? We won’t expect love.”

How to say this, how to fix this, when they were both on the way to sealing their fates, and out of the wrong reasons too? Loki saw now that it had been wrong to push Tony away – he’d abandoned him, after demanding everything and giving nothing in return. So now he had to remain distant, or it would break his heart, because he very well knew everything that Tony might have felt for him was dead now. But he would marry him and make him happy without asking for anything in return, in penance for the true happiness and peace he’d stolen from the Midgardian. And Tony? Why did he do this? Out of obligation? Because it was the right thing? Or did Odin offer him something in return? Whatever it was, it was not enough to allow for warmth in his gaze, and Loki had to look away lest his heart break into a million pieces.

The left the dungeons though the same back gate Loki had entered them, and the sun and the fresh air felt like the sweetest kiss on his skin. A warm wind played with the tangled, probably almost matted strands of his hair, and when they climbed down some steep stairs that would lead them to a sand bank by the Yggdrasil he suddenly felt the urge to chop it all off. His fingers itched when he saw the dagger strapped to Tony’s hip.

“Tony,” he said, and the nobleman – no, no, his _husband_ – stumbled in surprise, catching himself with a wild flail.

“Yes?” he barked when he stood secure again.

“I need your dagger.”

Loki gasped, when suddenly the sharp tip of a spear poked into his ribs.

“The prisoner is not allowed any weapons,” an Einherjar shouted.

“Fine,” Loki spat and slapped the spear aside. He threw up his hands and gathered a fistful of his torn and dirty skirts, shaking them like a sign in front of the man. “Let me get married in rags and matted hair, like a filthy beggar!”

Frigga, who had gone ahead to scout the site, returned with flying skirts, taking the steps as if they were nothing. The rage on her face would have made a lioness protecting her cub look like a tame kitten.

“What is going on?”

“It’s alright,” Tony cut in, to everyone’s surprise – apparently to his own as well, because he fell silent, when he felt everyone’s eyes on him. “Uh, I mean … What do you need it for?”

“To cut my hair.”

Frigga gave a small noise of protest, but held it back when Loki gave her a serious look. He needed to do this.

“Alright. I will cut it for you,” Tony offered grimly. “But first let’s get to that damn river and get it over with.”

Loki stumbled down the next few steps, feeling nauseous and dizzy. _Get it over with._ He had to hold back a gagging noise from the sensation of an imaginary noose tightening around his neck. _What have I done? What can I do?_ This must be how animals felt when they were being led to the slaughterhouse. Only that it was Loki’s own fault, and his alone. _This needn’t be so terrible, if only I’d had trust in Tony._

“Over here, over here.” Frigga ushered them closer to Yggdrasil’s waters, which were treacherously smooth today, glinting only softly in the bright sunlight. Their spot was close to the royal palace and therefore close to the sea. Here, the Yggdrasil entered the ocean in all her majestic might, so the distinction between river and ocean blurred. From King’s Island, which sat on a protruding stretch of land – with the main palace on top of the cliff – one could only barely see Asgard’s shores where they winged off to the east and west. It was a beautiful sight, and the day was warm. Further upstream they could see children playing in the safe, shallow waters of the Yggdrasil. Loki remembered being their age, stealing away from his duties to splash around with them if it got too hot for him in the palace’s halls.

“It’s not cold, is it?”

“Not at all,” Frigga answered Tony’s inquiry. “The cold, churning Yggdrasil you know up north has grown fat, lazy and mild on her journey south. This time of the year it’s barely cool enough to be refreshing.”

Tony nodded, thoughtfully regarding the deceptively slow-looking stream of water flowing by them and walked towards a boulder, where he stopped and looked back at Loki.

“Sit, I’ll cut your hair.”

Loki hesitated for a moment, before he roughly pulled off his boots, discarded them carelessly – they had holes anyway – and got rid of his overskirt to sit more comfortably in his pants only. He’d turned his back towards Tony, so he could not see what the Midg- … what his husband was doing, but he could hear the telltale rasp of a blade being drawn. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see the Einherjar tensing. Were they concerned Loki could disarm Tony, take the knife and somehow fight his way to freedom? Did they expect Tony to attack them? Or were they worried Tony might slit Loki’s throat?

Well, neither of these things happened, and Loki felt Tony sawing roughly at the filthy, tangled strands of his hair. It hurt; his grip was not gentle, and the dagger was not a scissor, not made for cutting anything. Daggers were thrust weapons, and while they had sharpened edges, they were not as sharp as those of knives. He bit his lip and kept silent, watching some stray strands floating to the sandy ground.

“There,” Tony huffed and stepped aside, into Loki’s range of view, a wild bunch of hair in his left hand. Loki had to fight the urge to touch whatever was left on his head. He’d always been proud of his rich, long, black hair, despite its annoying puffy quality. Losing it now felt … refreshing. His head felt lighter now. But it was also sad. It felt like he wasn’t Prince Loki Silvertongue anymore.

“Thank you,” he gasped out and stood to hide the humiliated blush spreading on his face. Not caring about his audience, he simply pulled his vest, blouse and tunic over his head, letting it land in a heap in the sand. He heard the Einherjar shuffling uncertainly, until Frigga sharply told them to turn around. But Loki was looking at Tony, who was looking at him in return, face unreadable.

“Don’t you like what you see?” Loki joked bitterly, fumbling with the laces of his trousers.

“You got thinner.”

Frigga came over then, telling Tony to hurry up and carding her fingers through Loki’s now inch-short hair with a mourning sound.

“My beautiful, my lovely … Oh, what is happening, why is this happening …”

“It is all my fault, mother,” Loki whispered and caught her hands in his, fighting back tears at the obvious pain his beloved mother was in. He knew it had to be confusing, heart breaking and very difficult for her, and he hated himself most for that. No, he hated Amora for that. Everything would be fine, had she not betrayed him.

But then Tony was there, taking his hand to drag him to the river until the Yggdrasil lapped at their feet. The sand felt softer here, and Loki wriggled his toes to dig deeper like he used to when he was a little boy. Now he was a bearer, and his husband who hated him was by his side. Loki squinted his eyes shut, pretending the glinting sunlight reflecting off Yggdrasil’s waters was blinding him, but in fact he just didn’t want to see his husband like this, naked and open, like they were lovers.

“So how do we do this?” Tony asked grimly, letting go of Loki’s hand.

“We step into the water, we submerge, we get out again. It’s very simple, really.”

Tony grunted and determinedly waded into the water, splashing it around in the process. Behind them Frigga made encouraging noises to shoo Loki after him. With a sigh he complied, pretending he was a boy, just a boy, and there were other children there playing in the river. The cool water swirled around his legs, and the sand stirred beneath his feet, and the sun started to burn pleasantly on his shoulders and back. Slowly he followed Tony deeper, where he could feel the first tentative pull of the Yggdrasil, as if she were asking whether he wanted to follow her, _look at the sea isn’t it beautiful just follow me and let me bring you there I promise it will be beautiful_. And as Loki watched Tony diving into the water, he almost answered _yes please_. But this was his wedding, and he was marrying a man whom he might love, a man who hated him. Maybe, if Hela were not waiting for him back at the palace …

He took a sipping breath and crouched, letting the water close over his head. The world looked strangely greenish and blurred down here, but the gentle drag and the weightlessness let Loki almost believe the Yggdrasil was holding him in a loving mother’s embrace.

Tony was floating only an arm’s length away from him, pinching his nose with one hand and with his cheeks bulged from the air he was keeping in so amateurishly. Granted, northerners probably didn’t swim and bathe out in the open, in wild rivers, lakes or the ocean as much as southerners.

Loki stood again, blinking a few times to get the water out of his eyes. Reflexively, he tried to brush back his hair, but of course the pitiable rest on his head wasn’t nearly long enough to fall into his face.

“I used to love this,” he said softly, when Tony was finished rubbing at his eyes and shaking himself.

“Not anymore?” his husband asked, frowned and jerked his head left and then right.

“I haven’t been swimming since my eleventh birthday,” Loki replied, slowly making his way back to the shore. He heard Tony following him noisily.

“Why?”

“I was eleven when I bled for the first time.”

Tony was silent when they stepped onto the sand beach again and dried themselves off. After the weightlessness of the water, Loki’s limbs felt strangely heavy. Also, he felt utterly filthy when he had to dress in his old, torn, stinking clothes again.

“Could you not bring a spare set?” he asked his mother ruefully.

“No, I am afraid not. It is part of your father’s plans, dearest. You must look pitiable.”

“Well, I do. Congratulations.”

Frigga gave him a look and brushed a few not so imagined specks of dust – or something else – off his shoulders.

“Now … Lord Stark and I will escort you to the throne room. The verdict will be spoken, and then we’ll see, darling. Your father has his plans, and we have to trust him.” She gently turned his chin until she could look at him with her clear blue eyes. “I know how you must be frightened. But I promise you … that everything will be fine.”

And Loki wanted to believe her. He wanted to close his eyes and let her embrace him, soothe his heart and sing him to sleep, like she did when he was a young child. She was his mother, would always be. But somehow even a mother’s magic wanes when her children grow up.

So everything he had was a mother’s warmth and his husband’s steel-hard grip around his elbow to steady him on his way back to the palace. After the cool breeze down by the river the cobblestone streets burned hot in the afternoon sun. The palace’s shade and cool marble hallways were a relief, despite what was waiting for him there.

“I promised you a ruby on your wedding ring,” Tony said suddenly when they approached the tall double door leading to the throne room, letting his hand slip from Loki’s elbow.

“The emerald one is fine,” Loki rasped. “I like green better anyway.”

“You still have it? I thought you’d discard it, after …”

“No.” Loki lifted his hand and showed him the green betrothal ring glinting on his ring finger. A strange look flitted over Tony’s face – confusion, surprise, shock – but then the doors opened and the Einherjar urged Loki forward.

“You don’t like red?” Tony continued more quietly as the entered the throne room together. An amused smile danced around his lips. House Stark’s colors were red and gold after all. _Blood and Progress._

“I like it well enough. It just doesn’t flatter my skin.”

Tony laughed – _laughed_ at this, turning the heads of everyone who had gathered to hear the judges’ verdict. Startled, Loki almost missed the last attendants slipping into the hall – Amora and her sister, Lorelei. Instead of reacting to his husband’s mirth, Loki stared at them. And the sisters stared back.

They were beautiful. Amora’s rich golden hair, and Lorelei’s rare red mane. They stood tall and proud, clad in the finest gowns, no doubt after the latest fashion at court. Loki did not remember the sleeves being that long when he left for Midgard. Nor did their cleavages used to be this exposed. He would have been disgusted, were he not too humiliated by his own ragged appearance. The triumphant smirk on Amora’s face told him enough.

“On this day of the sun, second moon of the harvest, we will hear the judgment on the accusations made by Lady Amora and Lady Lorelei, concerning treason and conspiracy. Prince Loki Silvertongue, Odinson of the House Búri of Asgard was heard and tried in the light of the Fates.”

King Odin, Lord Forseti and Lord Týr rose from their respective seats, and Lord Forseti gestured for Loki to come closer.

“I am called Forseti the Just,” he said and trained his pale grey eyes on Loki without speaking directly to him. “Justice however is often not as straightforward as the Law. The Law is the Law. It is absolute. Justice is the art of weighing the Law against human reasoning. The defendant offered his reasoning, and we have listened and weighed it. Considered the accusations, the offered evidence, the accused’s defense and the Law, this jury has come to a conclusion.”

Loki swallowed, searching first Lord Forseti’s and then his father’s faces for a clue – any clue. He wiped his hands on his overskirt and fought the urge to run.

“Guilty.”

A loud murmur swept through the hall, until Odin’s raised hand silenced them. Loki could see the gleeful smile Amora and Lorelei exchanged. He himself was holding his breath. _The penalty for treason was death, death by hanging, death by beheading, death by fire-death-death-death …_

“Prince Loki will be stripped of his royal title and his properties. He is from here on expelled from the House Búri. Until the day of his death he will be prohibited from ever setting foot on King’s Island again. The sentence begins tomorrow at sunrise.”

Loki reeled, trying to process everything. Stripped? Expelled? _Exiled_?

There was a relieved groan behind him and a strong arm around his waist, a chin pressing into his shoulder.

“That sneaky bastard!” A laugh, warm breath tickling Loki’s neck. “It’s ingenious!”

But Loki still trembled, swaying on his feet, feeling like a giant wave hit him square in the chest.

“I’m no-one. I’m nothing. I … I lost everything …”

The arm tightened, pressing him against a solid chest.

“Loki, come on, _think_.”

He was stripped of his royal title and his properties. He was no longer a member of the House Búri. He was _exiled from his home_. But then it dawned on him.

He was a Stark now. He was a Lord of Midgard. His home was the Triskelion Tower and Stark Mansion. His family … Tony and Hela were his family now. And Jarvis, Tony’s quiet, loyal butler. Also Pepper, maybe. Maybe others too.

Loki raised his head and met his father’s one-eyed gaze. The King nodded, smiling enigmatically.

/^-^-^-^\

Hela did not cry or say anything when Loki told her that they would have to move away from King’s Island permanently. She only nodded and asked where they were going instead.

“I don’t know, darling,” he sighed and stroked her hair. “But I believe Midgard is most likely. I am married to Lord Stark now.”

The young girl perked up at this.

“Am I a Stark now too?”

“Not yet, my little bug, but I’m sure Tony will make it so soon.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and the whole evening packing their things. Odin had sent him a note, explaining some of the details of the penance – for example Loki was allowed to take any jewelry, since it technically counted as his dowry. Only his books had to stay behind, and perhaps that was what pained him most. Some of them were very rare, not even to be found in the royal library or the Citadel’s crypts. Maybe he could ask his mother to claim them for herself and ‘gift’ them to him at a later stage.

Hela’s things were packed quickly as well, despite her love for gowns and dresses. She only insisted on bringing some of her favorite dolls along, among them a stuffed dog, her first and most beloved cuddly animal. Loki fondly remembered sewing and stuffing it when he had been heavily pregnant, in anticipation of his little girl. But then that reminded him of Angr, his own naivety, his current situation with Tony, so when his mother came and brought them a belated dinner, he had to decline.

“But you have to eat something,” Frigga insisted, ignored his nauseous moans and spoon-fed him the – to him – tasteless meal. Hela then wanted Loki to spoon-feed her too, and he happily complied, letting her antics shoo away his worries. When both their bowls were empty and Frigga rose to carry them away, he felt like his heart was being ripped out, now that his stomach had nothing to complain about anymore.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” he whispered, holding onto his mother’s sleeve.

She smiled gently and set the tray she was carrying down.

“Darling, it won’t be for forever. And you’re not going to be alone. You have Hela, and a husband.”

“A husband who despises me.”

Now she frowned.

“Why would you say that?”

“I used him for my nefarious purposes and have pushed him away one time too many. He would not risk affection, just to be hurt again. I know that,” Loki explained miserably.

“So tell him you won’t. Hurt him, I mean.”

“He won’t believe me. I am a liar and a traitor, after all.”

“Then he _would_ be stupid,” Frigga said dryly. “Though I don’t believe he _is_.”

Loki hesitated, watching Hela neatly fold one of her coats for a moment, humming a children’s song even though he could see her suppress a yawn. It was long past her usual bedtime, after all.

“So you think … that I deserve happiness? With him? That he will forgive me?”

Frigga’s features softened.

“Everyone deserves happiness, my darling. He knows that, too, maybe even better than you.” She shook out her skirts and sat opposite of Loki on a chair. “Love is strange that way. It should be our path to happiness, but sometimes it seems like it will only lead to pain and despair. Have hope, Loki.”

“You say that as if it’s easy,” he sighed. “Do hope and trust not make us vulnerable? I would rather live in uncertainty than get hurt.” _Again_ , he added silently, but the way his mother’s eyes glinted, she knew that anyway. Angr had made too much of an impression to be forgotten this easily.

“I thought he knew about him,” she then said softly, pointing with her chin at Hela to indicate her Jötunn father.

“He does, I told him.” The ‘ _but’_ hung in the air almost tangibly.

“Then it is not he who must make the first step. Not when you so clearly do not trust him.”

Loki huffed, but he knew she was right. She was always right. She had been right when she told him to break ties with Angr, and she had been right when she begged him to keep the baby. And in uncountable other situations as well.

So he had to trust Tony – and in turn show him that he was worthy of his trust. But how to do that?

“You are thinking too hard, my darling. Just tell him.”

That would be one way of doing it, Loki supposed. And what did he have to lose? Nothing.

/^-^-^-^\

It was the middle of the night, completely dark but for the crescent moon’s pale light. After the day’s heat the night’s cool winds were appreciated – or they would be, if Loki were not enveloped in his brother’s huge, muscular arms.

“Thor,” he tried to say, but it was too muffled by the older one’s fleshy shoulder to be heard.

“I will miss you, little brother,” Thor all but sobbed and squeezed him one last time before finally letting him go. Loki took a gasping breath and slapped Thor’s bicep in mock anger.

“Stupid brick,” he wheezed, but they were both grinning like madmen. Steps approached, but they were caught in the familiar war of hugs, annoyance and curses, all to hide – or maybe show – their underlying love for each other.

“You know I never intended …” Loki began, but Thor shushed him with a finger on his lips.

“I know, cow. Now go and finish packing, I’ll have words with my brother-in-law.”

Only then did Loki notice Tony standing not far away, leaning against one of the carriages loaded with Hela’s and his belongings. His face was hidden by night’s gentle shadows, but Loki though he could see an equally gentle smile somewhere.

“Don’t beat him up too bad, brother. I need him yet,” Loki teased and punched his older brother for what might well be the last time in a very long time. He really was going to miss his punch bag.

Loki floated past Tony to where two of the palace’s servants were loading the carriage. He only half-heartedly gave instructions though, while he tried to eavesdrop on Thor’s conversation with his husband.

“… not be easy, but I tell you it will be worth it,” Thor was just saying, his tone serious and grave. “My brother is a great man, he will be a wonderful husband to you. And a loving mother, if you so will. But I promise you this: hurt him, or my niece, and the crabs will feast on your remains at the bottom of the ocean.”

An involuntary smile tugged at Loki’s lips. Thor; always the big, overprotective brother.

“I would never,” Tony replied, just as earnestly. “I don’t care about the circumstances of our marriage – I will strive to enable him and Hela a good, happy life. No matter what.”

“Then you have my blessing, Lord Stark. May the Fates watch over you.”

“And you.”

A good, happy life? No matter what? Loki’s heart hammered in his chest, drowning out all sound and thought. Did this mean …? Or did it mean …? Or was he getting ahead of himself, jumping to all the wrong conclusions?

He squeaked like a frightened rat when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

“Whoa, steady there!”

“Tony,” he panted, pressing his hand to his chest. “Norns, you scared me.”

“Apologies, but I see you are finished with loading the carriages.”

Was he?

“Oh, yes,” murmured distractedly and dismissed the servants. “Will we be leaving soon?”

“Whenever you are ready,” Tony replied, squeezing Loki’s shoulder.

“Hela?”

“In the front coach, with Pepper.”

“Good, good. And the second coach?”

“Ready for us.”

Loki perked up at this.

“Us? You will be riding with me?”

Tony shrugged and let his hand slide down, off Loki’s shoulder and to his elbow instead.

“I thought about our situation, and I came to the conclusion that no matter what, I will try to be a good husband to you. And that means not ignoring you or shipping you off to who-knows-where. If that is what you want as well, that is.”

“Of course,” Loki said, ignoring the way his voice sounded too frail and wobbly – too emotional. Maybe it was just as well, because something in Tony’s face softened, and he gently led Loki to the coach they would be sharing. Just like a proper gentleman, Tony helped Loki climb inside and quickly excused himself to give the signal that they were ready. Shortly after the Midgardian joined Loki a jolt rattled through the carriage, and then they were on their way home.

It was a strange feeling, knowing he was heading ‘home’, but at the same time leaving his ‘home’ behind. Tony must have sensed his uneasiness, since he wordlessly placed an arm around Loki’s shoulders and silently offered him to lean against his solid body. Loki happily accepted this offer and tucked his head into the space between Tony’s shoulder and chin.

“You can sleep if you want.”

“Mmh.”

He was asleep before he could register Tony spreading a warm blanket over them both and the slight jump the carriage made when they left King’s Island, driving onto the bridge connecting the island to Asgard’s main land.

/^-^-^-^\

After one week of travelling they finally reached Álfheim, the last Realm they needed to cross before they would arrive in Midgard. Its most distinguishable feature were the rolling, emerald green hills and its airy, golden woods. The Álfar were generally hunters, fishers, farmers and healers, living in close communion with nature, but there were a handful of cities and small villages, mainly along the Yggdrasil’s banks or the King’s road. That evening they arrived at one of those, a town called Djer. It had a guest-house with stables for the horses and a promise of decent meals. The Álf who owned it, a man named Sjørn, welcomed them warmly.

“Anything at all for my friends from the south!” he laughed and patted Tony on the back, before elegantly bowing before Loki, Pepper and Hela.

“Actually, we’re northerners,” Tony rectified, pointing at himself and Pepper.

“Ah, but your beautiful husband and daughter are Æsir, yes, yes? Welcome! Welcome!”

A bit baffled, Tony was for once speechless, but Loki knew many Álfar and their peculiarities. So when Sjørn laughed again and spread his arms as if he were about to hug them all, Loki joined in his laugh and stepped forward to kiss the smaller man’s cheek.

“Thank you, friend,” Loki said, giving the Álf his best smile. “We are indeed blessed to be in your house.”

“No, the Fates have bestowed upon me the gift of seeing one as exquisite as you – a poor Álf as humble as me must make do with stolen glances, while your lucky husband is able to appreciate your loveliness in its entirety,” the Álf immediately responded, took Loki’s hand and planted a kiss on his knuckles. “And what is your name, o most graceful?”

“I am Loki,” he introduced himself. “This is my husband, Tony, and my daughter, Hela. Pepper here is travelling with us.”

“Welcome! Welcome!” Sjørn laughed again and went on to hug Tony, pinch Hela’s cold, grey cheek without even flinching and kissing Pepper’s hand. He then led them to a table and promised them a humble, but nourishing and fresh meal, and dashed off.

“What was that?” Pepper asked, still baffled, when the Álf was gone.

"Álfar are very affectionate and open people,” Loki explained. “They do not know the concept of strangers. Everyone is, simply put, their friend. Well, except for the Svartálfar, who consider everyone to be their enemy, but we won’t encounter any here. Malekith’s camp is far in the west.”

“Oh.” Pepper blinked.

While they waited for Sjørn to return with their meals, Loki looked after Hela, who had been unusually quiet for the last few days. She simply let him drag her chair closer to his and snuggled into his side, wordlessly accepting his cooing and him stroking her hair.

“Here, I apologize for the wait … I am a terrible host,” Sjørn exclaimed from the door, balancing two trays loaded with bowls of steaming broth. “I will bring some wine too, and bread. My good friend Hvrið baked it.”

“Thank you very much, my friend,” Loki said and placed his hand on the Álf’s, when he set down a bowl in front of him.

“Everything, for one as beautiful as you. Enjoy your meal! I’ll be right back with bread and wine.”

They were hungry from a long day on the road, so they dug right in. The broth was made of beans and mashed potatoes, and pieces of meat. Venison probably, since Álfar were excellent hunters, and their woods were well-populated with game. Just when Sjørn returned with little baskets full of brown bread, their carriage drivers entered. The Álf greeted them as well and asked them about the horses and the coaches – did they need anything, he could bring the horses some mash and more hay, or have one of the town boys give them a rubdown, did they need anything repaired? The men answered monosyllabically, asking for ale instead of wine, but Sjørn was obviously used to contact with non-Álfar, or he would have been slighted by their closed-off behavior.

Loki had to hold back an ecstatic moan when he tasted the wine. How he’d missed the sweet, sharp taste! Álfheim’s wines were, in contrast to Asgard’s or other southern wines not made from grapes harvested in late summer or autumn – instead they harvested them when frost was prevalent. It was a risky way of cultivation, since the frost could easily come far too early or too late, rendering the whole year’s yield useless. But in those years that it worked, the resulting wine was far more sweet and rich in taste than regular wine.

Apparently Tony knew Álfar wine as well, since he carefully savored every single sip. Considering the rarity and expensiveness of the wine, drinking it alongside the simple broth almost seemed sacrilegious.

Soon everyone, but especially Hela, was tired, so they retired to their rooms. The furniture was simple, but solid. Hela, as before, got a bed in Pepper’s room, while Loki and Tony shared a room. It pained Loki to be separated from his daughter, especially since he felt that she was troubled by something. Was she homesick? Did she miss King’s Island? Was she not happy with having to move to Midgard? He could not think of anything else.

Thus he was quite absent-minded while he undressed himself for the night; he did not hear Tony approaching, and jumped when he touched his shoulder.

“Come to bed.”

Loki frowned, confused at the affectionate tone he was using.

“You’ve been standing there for a while now,” Tony explained softly, smiling cheekily.

“Oh. Apologize.”

“Lost in thoughts?” Tony asked and lifted the sheets to let Loki slip under the covers more easily.

“I was thinking about Hela. She seems distant lately, and I don’t know why.”

“Hm.” He wrapped his arms around Loki and pulled him a bit closer, ignoring the surprised look he earned. “Maybe she is just tired.”

“Maybe.”

Tony was looking at him strangely, as if he were trying to read Loki’s thoughts. His wide brown eyes looked almost black in the dim candle light.

“Are you my husband?”

Loki blinked.

“What? Of course I am, what are you- …?”

“Tomorrow we’ll probably be in Midgard. After Midgardian law we’re not married.”

Confused, Loki lifted his head off the pillow and brought up his elbow to lean on it.

“But Midgard worships the Norns as well. Why would our marriage not be valid?”

“In Asgard you bathe in the Yggdrasil to seal the bond, right? Well, in Midgard we …”

“Ah. Yes. I forgot.” Loki huffed out a laugh. “What, us having sex beforehand does not count? And since when do you give a damn about rules? It’s a stupid custom anyway.”

Tony licked his lips and half sat up as well.

“I’m just saying, there could be people contesting your and Hela’s right on the Stark name. If there’s any doubt … Well, you know how politicians can be. They wouldn’t stop at stripping you from your titles, like Odin did.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me into sleeping with you now?” Loki asked, slowly and carefully pronouncing each syllable, allowing a sharp edge to creep into his voice. He saw Tony’s eyes widen, and the arm around his waist disappeared.

“No, no, oh Norns …” He rubbed his face with one hand. “Why does everything I say to you get taken the wrong way? I just meant … Look,” he groaned, sitting up straight, “I just want to keep you safe, yes? I married you to help you. I came south because you asked me to look after Hela and she would not be separated from you. Don’t get me wrong, I _wanted_ to do those things. And I want to continue helping you.”

Loki closely watched Tony’s expression, so close in front of him, but somehow so very far away.

“Why?”

A soft sigh.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I’m afraid I can be very blind sometimes. Spell it out for me.”

Tony kept Loki’s gaze as he unashamedly threw back the covers and straddled his legs, propping himself up on his hands left and right of Loki’s face. He knew he should feel intimidated, angered, panicked, _anything but excited_. But the look in Tony’s eyes was too intense to allow for anything else. The man above him leaned down until his lips almost touched his.

“Because I fell in love with you that night; that night you were a magpie and you baited me with glittering emeralds. I fell in love, and I have been falling ever since.”

Loki did not know what kind of noise escaped him then, but it must have been good, because there were suddenly hands in his hair and a tongue in his mouth and solid hips between his thighs. He had no breath and no chance to say _I know, me too_ , but he thought that kissing was better anyway.

They coupled three times that night. Once frantically and desperately; once passionately and hard; and once sweet and slow. The sun’s first pale rays already peeked through the gaps between the window shutters, when they finally came to a rest, entwined, sweaty skin on sweaty skin. Loki felt strangely invigorated in spirit, which posed a nice contrast to the exhaustion in his limbs.

“Uh,” Tony groaned from where he’d buried his face in the pillows. “Is it too late to sleep now?”

Loki chuckled.

“I believe it would be better if we left early; that way we might reach the Triskelion Tower tonight. We can always nap in the carriage.”

“Or something else.” Tony’s lewd grin was only half visible.

“I’m afraid I won’t be up to such activities for a while now,” Loki laughed and groaned as he stretched, feeling a pleasant burn in his muscles. This burn would however soon transform into not so pleasant soreness, he feared, and travelling in a coach wasn’t going to help with that either.

“Yeah, you are right. Ow,” Tony agreed, flinching as he tried to get out of the bed. “I’m definitely out of practice.”

“Oh?”

His husband looked back at him over his naked shoulder, a fond smile on his face.

“Of course,” he said softly before crossing the room and gathering his clothes for the day. Loki, however, was content with lying back and watching. What a fine view, indeed.

/^-^-^-^\

When they finally reached the Triskelion Tower they were all exhausted and yearning for a decent meal, a hot steaming bath, clean clothes and a soft featherbed. Especially that last one. Loki feared for his back’s health, should Tony take him one more time on a hard, unyielding straw mattress (or even worse on the carriage seat). Tony’s friends, some of them council members like himself, welcomed them warmly, congratulating on their marriage. Only the weather could have been more inviting, with the fog and the persistent rain.

They made love again that night, relishing the feeling of finest silk and linen on their skin. With a fire burning low in the fireplace, warming their bedroom against the cold morning air wafting in from one of the windows, they could afford to cool the sweat in the open air, not having to crawl under rough, patched-up blankets again afterward. It made Tony’s calloused hands roaming the expanse of his body that much more sensual, especially with the play of golden light and dark shadows on his husband’s face and toned muscles.

“I suppose I’ll have to thank the King and Queen someday,” Tony murmured into Loki’s shoulder before pressing an open mouthed kiss to it.

“Mmh … What for?”

“You.” He looked up, the fire’s flickering light reflecting in his dark brown eyes. “I’d have left you – left us both heartbroken, lonely and cold.” His hand trailed lightly scratching paths down Loki’s spine. “And now we are both happy, warm and safe.”

“Indeed,” Loki sighed and stretched languidly. “I’m just worried …”

“What?” Tony prodded, when he didn’t continue for a while.

“Hela. And the future.” Not knowing where to begin, he sighed and gesticulated wildly. “It is everything so … uncertain. Hela is not being herself right now, and she won’t tell me why. And what do I do now, that I can’t scheme anymore? On the other hand I have so much to do … I don’t know where to begin either.”

“Don’t worry, love. It’ll all be fine.”

Tony kissed his shoulder again and dressed in Stark reds and browns in the dim, lilac-hued morning light, accentuated by the dying fire’s light. He had to inspect a military encampment a few hours outside the Triskelion Tower and would not be back until the evening. Maybe it was due to this that their parting kiss was this sweet and full of longing.

It wasn’t until breakfast with Hela that Loki noticed that Tony had called him ‘love’.

/^-^-^-^\

Hela’s melancholia miraculously lifted about two weeks later, when she tentatively asked Loki if she could maybe, probably, with his blessing and maybe his presence, ride out with Stardust and explore the woods, marshes and floodplains around Triskelion Tower. Gladdened to be able to make his little girl happy he immediately agreed and had the stable boys Stardust for Hela, a gelding each for Loki and Jarvis, who would be accompanying them. He promised Hela to show her the nicest spots and had the kitchen maids prepare a picnic after Loki’s tastes.

During the whole trip Hela seemed like transformed. Where she’d been sulking sadly for the last few weeks, she was now laughing and having fun again. The wild meadow where they settled to have lunch, she chased after some late summer butterflies and picked a flower bouquet for Loki, which she promptly undid again, so he could weave the blooms into her hair.

“Yours is too short now, mamma,” she said almost disapprovingly. “So I’ll have to wear the flowers for you.”

“They are beautiful, young mistress,” Jarvis assured when she asked him for his opinion.

“I like them better in mamma’s hair – like this I can’t see them,” she pouted, but quickly cheered up again when Jarvis cut the fresh bread for them and adorned Hela’s piece with soft cheese, spicy oil, thin cut salted meat and pickles. For Loki he had brought a small bottle of southern wine to go along with raw vegetables dunked in a spiced yoghurt sauce and honeyed berries. Lately he had begun to appreciate very salty and hot, or very sweet dishes. Luckily, Midgard had an overabundance of tastes on the whole spectrum from sour to sweet to hot, so he didn’t have to eat the same things every day just to satiate his appetites.

Jarvis advised them to enjoy the sun for as long as they wished – Midgard’s winters were dark and cold enough – so they stayed until the sun was almost set and it was night by the time they were back at the tower. Tony, who waited for them there, noticed Hela’s renewed spirit, but didn’t say anything except for a smiling kiss he shared with Loki.

With Hela happy again, Loki could concentrate on sorting out what he was going to do now, that he wasn’t a prince anymore and all his plans had failed. At first he accompanied Hela to her sewing circles and riding lessons – together with Tony he started instructing her on techniques of self-defense and they alternately schooled her on topics relevant to her new status as the heir of House Stark. Apart from that and familiarizing himself with Tony’s household, Loki liked to help Maester Banner out with his extensive herbary, in exchange for advanced knowledge on the Citadel’s sciences. With some time Loki might become something like an unofficial Maester himself.

When winter came and all life in Midgard just seemed to gear down and settle in a comfortable state of simply _being_ , Loki felt at home when sitting by the fireplace with Hela on his lap, leaning back against Tony’s solid chest. In some ways his new life was less. Less exciting. Less select. But it was also more in so many ways he could never name, like the way Tony would casually kiss his temple or Jarvis would call him ‘Sir’, even though he only called Tony that. It was the way he felt at peace when he fell asleep at night, enveloped by warm, strong arms.

Maybe just this once losing had meant winning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it to the end :P Comments are welcome.


End file.
